THE 



AMERICAN PASTOR 



IN EUROPE. 



BY 



THE EEV. JOSEPH CKOSS, D.D. 



EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 



BY 



THE EEV. JOHN GUMMING, D.D., F.K.S.E. 



^ 



v 



s 





1975 



LONDON: 

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STEEET. 

1860. 



\ 



ts 



n 4 



LONDON: PBTNTED Br WILLIAM CLOWSS AND SONS, STAMFOED STEEET 



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if ^ 



INTEODUCTION. 



ur. Cross, the eloquent writer of this entertaining work, 
whom I had the pleasure of frequently meeting in London, 
has made some strictures in it on English preachers — some- 
times overdone, but always brilliant. A preacher himself, 
he has paid particular attention to preachers in England. 
In introducing his interesting sketches to the public, it 
occurred to me that this would be a fit opportunity of 
paying him a few English shillings for his very many 
American dollars. I have therefore covered the few 
pages assigned me, not by praises of the very useful and 
very amusing book I have the pleasure of editing, but by 
some remarks on American preachers, who are selected as 
representatives of classes, and therefore likely to be more 
interesting and instructive to us. 

Henry Ward Beeches, 

Henry Ward Beerfier is a remarkable, though somewhat 
eccentric, preacher. ' The Plymouth Church,' Brooklyn, 
is a sort of audience hall, having very few of the usual and 
distinctive features of a place of Christian worship. In the 
large pulpit we shall find on Sundays a respectable-looking 
person who writes notes, and looks about him, and makes 
himself singularly at home, before service begins. He 
wears neither cassock, gown, nor surplice, nor bands, nor 



IV INTRODUCTIOxN-. 

any particle of the clerical uniform. His voice is possessed of 
no extraordinary power, nor is it musical. His manner is 
commonplace in all respects. But notwithstanding all these 
mediocrities of the outer man, he is the most popular 
and effective American preacher of the day. He owes his 
power wholly to the depth and force and originality of his 
thoughts, and the homely, yet neither vulgar nor ungraceful, 
expression of them ; above all, to the honest but not preten- 
tious faithfulness with which he inveighs against hypocrisy 
in every guise, and immorality in every rank. He regards 
every doctrine of the Bible not as a mere part of a 
theological system, however precious, but as bearing 
on man in some of the varied phases of his every-day 
life. To have any value he holds that a doctrine must be 
vital : — 

' We must know (he remarks) how to act, how to con- 
trol passions, how to resist temptations, how to be self- 
sacrificing and loving. If a person will bring to me a 
fresh blue violet this beautiful spring morning, 1 would 
thank him ; and so, if any one has a little flower of Christian 
experience, which has blossomed forth from the wintry 
snows through the warmth and light of God's love, I would 
thank him for it: I would give more for it than for acres 

of dried hay Theological systems are good 

in their place. They have their place, as all sciences have, 
but that place is not the pulpit. What people need from 
the pulpit is religious food — the bread of life. There is no 
science in nature. God makes nature, and man makes 
science. There are the flowers and fruits, and man 
makes the science of botany. There are the stars and the 
sun, and out of their regular motions man makes the 
science of astronomy. All these sciences are well in 
their place. But when I want a bunch of flowers, I do 
not thank a man who brings me calyxes, and petals, and 
pistils, and stamens, scientifically analyzed and labelled. 
When I want something to eat, I do not thank one for 
bringing me the component parts of bread and butter 



INTRODUCTION, V 

and coffee, chemically analyzed and scientifically arranged 
— the starch in one paper, and the saccharine matter in 
another, and the caffein in another. No, I want them 
mixed as nature mixes them ; and so I want the Gospel 
given to me as Christ gave it, naturally, from his great 
heart, with all the freshness and beauty of life expe- 
rience.' 

These are some of the leading principles which give his 
preaching what such a line is sure to create— a just appre- 
ciation and great popularity. He repudiates, and most 
justly, every system which exalts the government of God 
above God Himself, and substitutes laws for a living 
Presence, and makes Deity subservient to them. The 
heart of human nature yearns for what will still its fervid 
beatings, and soothe its irritation, and satisfy its longings, 
and to present this is his aim. A sound theology ought to 
be the actual possession of the preacher, but it is a life- 
giving and life-sustaining preaching that must be the ministry 
of the pulpit. Carbon in the living tree is delightful and 
fruit-bearing. Carbon in the diamond is bright and pre- 
cious, but cold and indigestible. There is something 
large and comprehensive in the sympathies of Mr. 
Beecher. His heart has outgrown the restraints and 
trammels of ecclesiastical party. If it has a defective 
polarity, it leans and oscillates rather strongly in the 
opposite direction : — ■ 

i Let us approach a communion table as if the Saviour 
were here, as he was at the supper of old. If there be in 
this congregation any strangers, let them come. I will 
not ask for their creeds. I will not inquire if they be 
" church members in good and regular standing." If 
there is any one here who, in penitence and longing 
for a pure life, has apprehended Christ and found him 
precious to his soul, it is not we, it is Christ who invites 
him.' 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

Mr. Beecher turns oftenest to the sunny side of life, and 
loves to dwell on all that feeds the happiness of the human 
heart. He will not pick up withered leaves if there be any 
green ones. He seems to revel in a bright religious light. 
4 When one's friends die we should go to the grave, not 
singing mournful psalms, but scattering flowers. Death 
was wrecked long ago. Christ has taken the crown from 
the tyrant. When Christians walk in black and sprinkle 
the ground with tears, then is the time when they should 
illuminate. As the disciples found the angels in Christ's 
grave, so in the grave where any of his loved disciples 
lie are angels of consolation, if we would only see 
them.' 

Mr. Beecher has been accused, in common w r ith some 
other faithful men, of preaching politics. In this charge 
there is no doubt some truth. His views of the duties and 
responsibilities of the pulpit seem much more expanded and 
comprehensive than those of many of his contemporaries. 
Certainly his vindication of his conduct in this matter is 
neither powerless nor inapplicable : — 

' Nothing can more sharply exhibit the miserable imbe- 
cility which has come upon us, than the inability of men 
to perceive the difference between preaching " politics," 
" social reform," &c, and preaching God's truth in such 
a way that it shall sit in judgment upon these things, 
and every other deed of men, to try them, to explore and 
analyze them, and to set them forth, as upon the back- 
ground of eternity, in their moral character, and in their 
relation to man's duty and God's requirements. 

6 Shall the whole army of human deeds go roaring along 
the public thoroughfares, and Christian men be whelmed 
in the general rush, and no man be found to speak the 
real moral nature of human conduct ? Is the pulpit too 
holy, and the Sabbath too sacred, to bring individual courses 
and developments of society to the bar of God's Word for 
trial ? Those who think so, and are crying out about the 



INTRODUCTION. Vll 

desecration of the pulpit with secular themes, are the lineal 
descendants of those Jews who thought the Sabbath so 
sacred that our Saviour desecrated it by healing the 
withered hand. Would to God that the Saviour would 
visit His Church and heal withered hearts!' 

He is a man of a thoroughly practical mind. He seems 
to despise all trifling with great themes, all prettiness of 
speech, all \ playing at preaching.' With him it is an 
earnest and fruitful work, and no solemnitv of utterance is 
in his mind an apology for dry and dull sermons : — 

6 Consecrated dullness is no better than flippant folly. 
If a window fails to let the light through, it makes little 
difference whether the obscuration comes from the web of a 
big, lazy spider, or from the nimble ueavings of a hundred 
pert little spiders. 

Grod's truth really, earnestly, pungently spoken, for a 
direct and practical purpose, with distinct results con- 
stantly following, that is preaching, no matter what are 
the particular methods of speech. Doubtless some are 
better than others. But every sincere and truthful man 
must use that way by which God has enabled him to 
achieve success ; some by solid statements, some by inex- 
orable reasonings, some by illustration and fancy, some 
by facts and stories — just as God has given power to each 
one. But the test is the same in the highest and the 
lowest. Fruit must follow. The truth of God must shine 
through the human instrument and evince its divinity by 
signs following — the awakening of the conscience, convic- 
tion of sin, conversion to God, and a life redeemed from 
selfishness and set aglow with Christian goodness and 
benevolence.' 

We ought never to forget that truth should be full of 
life and sap, breaking into blossom and bowing down with 
its heavy harvest of fruit. Religion should be set 
forth in forms and relations applicable to the age, such 
as Apostles would preach were they living in this nineteenth 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

century of ours. That preacher is sure to put forth power 
who preaches truth for to-day adapted to the trials and 
temptations, the necessities and griefs of those who are 
busy working out the problem of life ; who preaches it not 
in antiquated formulas, and crabbed technicalities — stilted, 
high, and hard — but in the garb of e very-day life : who 
loves to set forth religion around the fireside in garbs that 
may not decorate but do not disguise — in the counting-house 
and in the markets of the world. What can be more 
graphic or true than the following : — 

< The tides come twice a day in New York harbour, 
but they only come once in seven days in God's harbour of 
the sanctuary. They rise on Sunday, but ebb on Monday, 
and are down and out all the rest of the week. Men write 
over their store door, " Business is business," and over 
the church door, " Religion is religion ;" and they say 
to religion, " Never come in here," and to business, 
" Never go in there." " Let us have no secular things 
in the pulpit," they say ; "we get enough of them through 
the week in New York. There all is stringent and biting 
selfishness, and knives, and probes, and lancets, and hurry, 
and work, and worry. Here we want repose, and sedatives, 
and healing balm. All is prose over there ; here let us 
have poetry. We want to sing hymns and to hear about 
Heaven and Calvary : in short we want the pure Gospel, 
without any worldly intermixture." And so they desire to 
spend a pious, quiet Sabbath, full of pleasant imaginings 
and peaceful reflections ; but when the day is gone all is 
laid aside. They will take by the throat the first debtor 
whom they meet, and exclaim, " Pay me what thou owest. 
It is Monday." And when the minister ventures to hint to 
them something about their duty to their fellow-men, they 
say, "Oh, you stick to your preaching. You do not know 
how to collect your own debts, and cannot tell what a man 
may have to do in his intercourse with the world." God's 
law is not allowed to go into the week. If the merchant 
spies it in his store, he throws it over the counter. If the 
clerk sees it in the bank, he kicks it out at the door. If it 



INTRODUCTION. • IX 

is found in the street, the multitude pursue it, pelting it 
with stones, as if it were a wolf escaped from a menagerie, 
and shouting, " Back with you. You have got out of Sun- 
day." There is no religion in all this. It is mere senti- 
mentalism. Religion belongs to every day : to the place of 
business as much as to the church. High in an ancient 
belfry there is a clock, and once a week the old sexton 
winds it up ; but it has neither dial-plate nor hands. The 
pendulum swings, and there it goes, ticking, ticking, day 
in and day out, unnoticed and useless. What the old clock 
is, in its dark chamber keeping time to itself, but never 
showing it, that is the mere sentimentality of religion, high 
above life, in the region of airy thought ; perched up in 
the top of Sunday, but without dial or point to let the 
people know what o'clock it is, of Time or of Eternity.' 

Such outspoken preaching will of course give offence. The 
mills and the docks and factories must be horrified. The 
Stock Exchange would expel the preacher. But the preacher 
is right notwithstanding. 

Some of his pithy remarks are fit to be household 
words : — 

6 A helping word to one in trouble is like a switch on a 
railway track — but one inch between wreck and ruin and 
smooth on-rolling prosperity. 

' Slavery is a state of suppressed war. 

' A grindstone that has no grit in it, how long would it 
take to make an axe sharp ? Affairs that have no pinch in 
them, how long would they take to make a man? 

* A man who is in the right knows that he is in the 
majority, for God is on his side. 

' The human heart is like an artist's studio. You can tell 
what the artist is doing, not so much by his completed 
pictures, but by the half-finished sketches and designs 
which are hanging on his wall. So you can tell the course 
of a man's life not so much by his well-defined purposes 
as by the half-formed plans, the faint day-dreams, which 
are hung in all the chambers of his heart.' 

Mr. Beecher is the preacher for the people. His sermons 



X INTRODUCTION. 

are not fierce, vulgar, and vituperative declamation, with- 
out a scintillation of genius, however sincerely meant. They 
are pregnant with celestial fire, rich in suggestive and 
original thought. Here and there we find nuggets of 
gold and gems of the first water. Yet he never loses sight 
of the end of a sermon, which is to profit, or of the hearers 
of it who are ignorant, sinful, and unhappy. He says 
quaint things, but never coarse and equivocal. Our clergy 
may copy and study his excellences, and avoid his inter- 
spersed and sometimes provocative remarks. He is not a 
model, but he is better — he is capital, available capital, on 
which others may draw, and send what they draw into 
currency in thoughts and words that will do the world a 
vast deal of good. 

He has carried into manhood the freshness and the exu- 
berant force of earlier days, and overflows, therefore, with 
sympathy and communion with all living and growing 
things. He says occasionally an indiscreet thing, but 
rarely, if ever, a tame thing. 

Yet some of his epigrammatic sayings are occasionally 
forced. The originality of the following does not atone 
for their constrained character : — 



1 She was a woman, and by so much nearer to God as that 
makes one. 

' To some men the mere fact of existence, the simple 
walking through the air and light, gives more pleasure 
than others find in the whole round of so called plea- 
sures. 

< A man's religion is not a thing all made in Heaven, and 
then let down and shoved into him. It is his own conduct 
and life. A man has no more religion than he acts out in 
his life. 

'Men are not put into this world to be everlastingly 
fiddled on by the fingers of joy. 

' When men complain to me of low spirits, I tell them to 



INTRODUCTION. XI 

take care of their health, to trust in the Lord, and to do 
good, as a cure. 

' Attempt to be aristocratic in the church, and the 
Church dies. Its true power consists in cutting the loaf of 
society from top to bottom.' 

Theodore Ledyard Cuyler. 

Another preacher, not so popular perhaps as Ward 
Beecher, but a vigorous thinker and an able speaker, is 
Theodore Ledyard Cuyler. He is picturesque and varied 
in his style, homely in his preferences, and altogether a 
useful and able exponent of his own school of teaching. 
He ranks with what are called in America ' the Reforming 
Preachers' — that is, the class who ally their influence to 
every good movement that touches and raises the down- 
trodden and depressed sections of society. There is in this a 
practical good sense which commends religion to those who 
are otherwise indisposed to listen to its claims. Speaking 
of city missions, he observes : — 

' By this time you may inquire, Where is the remedy ? 
What can we do? To these inquiries we would reply that 
as no clean result can come from an unclean source, the 
primal remedy is to purify the sources themselves. This 
work is a double one. It must be applied both to the 
body and to the soul. The external man and the internal 
man should both be reformed. Each one of these pro- 
cesses is essential. The second is by far the most import- 
ant ; but in order to reach it the first one must not be 
neglected. For it is no easy work to Christianize a ragged 
outcast with a half-dozen layers of filth all over his frame, 
and no bread in his mouth but what he gets by begging 
and stealing. It is no easy task to Christianize a child by 
two hours of Sabbath-school teaching, while the Devil has 
undisputed control over that child through all the hours of 
all the other six days of the week. It is no easy matter to 
make a vagrant girl obey either the seventh or the eighth 
commandment, if absolute want is driving her to theft, or 



Xll INTRODUCTION. 

to the sale of her womanhood to buy her bread. The soul 
must be cared for and the physical condition too. The 
Bible and the tract should be given to these outcasts ; but 
a preliminary step is to do all we can to provide for them 
a clean face and a clean dress, and a better chance to live 
without crime. Let us endeavour to give them employ- 
ment. To help them into places of livelihood. Let them 
learn to be not paupers, but producers ; not mendicants 
and plunderers, but self-respecting self-supporters. And 
then, with this care for the perishing body, let us give 
them the Gospel. Not as a cold abstraction or a theologic 
dogma do they need it, but as a plain simple method of 
salvation, and as a practical rule of life. Let them have it 
free and warm and loving ; just as it burst from Heaven in 
its fullness, just as it breathed from Calvary in its tender- 
ness. Let it come to them in every possible channel — 
through the teacher, through the tract visitor, through 
the school.' 

These remarks are pregnant with good sense. They 
are not in any degree calculated to compromise Christian 
principle, and yet in every respect they tend to convince 
the mere secular man of the world that the religion of the 
Bible is not a mere transcendental, airy, and intangible 
theory, suited to the schools, but helpless in less rarefied 
strata of the atmosphere. They must see in it an every- 
day fountain of inspiration, strength, and success — mighty 
in a kitchen as in a palace — reaching the highest, and 
bending down to the humblest, and blessing and glorify- 
ing all the bonds and ties of social life. 

This is what is wanted in our own country. We have 
too much theology and too little religion in our pulpits — 
too much about systems and dogmas, however important 
in their relative positions and superpositions in the Chris- 
tian system, and far too little of that homely, intelligent, 
and common-sense use of those grand truths which shine 
with the splendour but also with the usefulness of stars, 



INTRODUCTION. Xlll 

guiding the sailor on the trackless sea, and lessening the 
darkness of a moonless night. 

Dr. Storks. 
Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, is another of those masculine 
American minds who, ignorant or disdainful of theological 
dilettantism, give themselves up in the truth to the greatest 
good of the greatest number. Dr. Storrs is anything but 
dull, tame, or prosaic. Nay, on subjects that rise above 
the every-day relations of religion, and touch the springs 
and fountains of truth, he is not only eloquent, but power- 
ful, and rich, and argumentative. Let us take a sample, 
not from his sermons, but his speeches. His subject is 
that fine one, the authorised version of the English Bible. 
He says : — 

6 And now consider what influence this version has put 
into our literature — I might say into all the history and 
life of the English people. It comes to us with authority 
from our childhood. Its words are heard amid circum- 
stances best adapted to make them impressive — on the 
Sabbath, in the churches, in the family devotions. They 
have been taught in even the common schools of our land ; 
blessed be God for that ! They have become wrought, we 
may say, into the very substance and texture of our thoughts, 
our associations, our earliest and most cherished expressions. 
And so they act mightily as an educating power on the 
popular mind. They have done so for generations. They 
act even upon the higher departments of literature. What 
delicate, fairylike forms this tough and oaken Saxon so 
skilfully combined with the more majestic Roman poetry, 
in those beautiful " Songs of Zion " to which reference 
has been made. Who has not observed in the great 
senatorial orator of our times, that when he rises to the 
highest point of eloquence, the very pitch of his power, he 
reverts to the simple biblical phrase that was familiar to 
us in childhood? And it is by that that he shakes the 
heart of his hearers with his wonderful force. For what 
would we give up the influences which this version has 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

put in our literature? For what would we give up the 
version itself? There is a company of gentlemen, I be- 
lieve, in this city who are desiring and endeavouring to 
put this out of use, and to substitute another for it pre- 
pared according to their notions. I do not speak certainly 
as a member of a committee, or of any society, but simply 
as a Christian man, indebted too deeply to our most noble 
version, to be willing to give it up, when I say that no man, 
in my judgment, intelligently weighing this matter, would 
think for a moment of such an exchange. Give up our 
version, sir ? Why, it was nine hundred years in coming 
to its completion ! It is hallowed with such memories as 
scarcely belong to another human work. It stretches back 
one of its far-reaching roots to the very cell of Bede. It 
strikes down another beneath the burnt ashes of Wickliffe. 
It sends another under the funeral pile of Tyndale. It 
twists another round the stake where Cranmer was burned. 
Give up this version for a trim and varnished new one ! 
Nay, verily. Those broad contorted arms have wrestled 
with the fierce winds of opinion for two hundred years. 
The sweet birds of heaven have loved to come and sing 
among them, and they sing there still. Their leaves are 
leaves of life and healing. There is not a text pendant on 
those boughs but has the stuff of religion and literature in 
it. They have given of their ribbed strength to every 
enterprise for human welfare. Give up this version ! It 
is our American inheritance. It came over in the May- 
flower. It was brought by Oglethorpe to Georgia. It 
has spread across our land ; it has been the joy of genera- 
tions to sit under its shadow ; it will stand while the hills 
stand. Sir, I think we will not give up this oak of the 
ages for any modern tulip-tree at present.' 

With the exception of the eulogy pronounced by Dr. 
Newman, the eloquent but erring oratorian, we do not 
know a more striking and just estimate. 

Besides these, there are numbers of vigorous minds in 
America. They have all some faults ; they often indulge 
in modes of expression alien to our taste, and generally 
work at high pressure. Still they are a powerful race ; 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

eminently original and vigorous, they do themselves and 
us credit. If our children are so healthy, what a noble 
mother must they have had ! 

The Pioneer Preachers. 

The pioneer preachers of America are a remarkable 
race. One of themselves thus defines the character : — 

' The pioneer preacher is a man of stamina and a man of 
humour — an urgent sort of man, whose soul is permeated 
by the truth of what he says — speaking right out what he 
has to say and doing right on what he has to do. True 
they have their faults. They are inferior in the niceties, 
and elegancies, and refinements, and beauties of civilized 
society ; but, with all their downright directness, they are 
men of great hearts and tender susceptibilities. These 
pioneer preachers need no patronage nor pity ; they can 
take care of themselves, and they do it. If any one in the 
east fails to find his ideal of ministerial character — sublime 
courage, indomitable energy, daring self-forgetfulness, a 
Christian piety which is self-abnegation — let him go, even 
in the present day, west of the Mississippi, and he will find 
there some noble pioneers hastening with the bread of life 
to the starving inhabitants, and scattering manna in the 
wilderness unto eternal life.' 

These men, justly or not, but sincerely, believe they have 
a commission from Heaven to go into the deserts and 
sequestered log-cabins with the first wave of civilization 
that rolls along the prairies, and to tell every human being 
of a great deliverance. They preach in kitchens, in cabins, 
from branches of trees, on the saddle, and from stumps. 
They have little book-learning ; they have no manual but 
the Bible. They live on sixty dollars a year, travel every 
month three hundred miles on foot, swim across rivers, 
sleep on the earth, live on corn-bread and bacon, and sow 
broadcast living seeds that ripen into harvests which others 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

with less labour joyously reap. Among the most powerful 
of these eccentric lights of the desert was William Burke. 
His height was above six feet, and his frame powerfully 
knit together. His voice was possessed of tremendous 
power — so much so that it was said he thundered rather 
than spoke. One day he preached in the open air to at 
least ten thousand persons. His sermon literally broke in 
crashes among the surging multitude, swaying them to and 
fro like a forest stricken by a terrific gale. It is a well- 
authenticated fact that successive hundreds of the audience 
fell down like corn before the scythe of the mower under 
his preaching. There is no doubt whatever that powerful 
and lasting impressions were made, but the results almost 
invariably proved that impulse without intelligence is most 
unsafe, and strong excitement, unsustained by careful and 
early education, is too apt to run into fanaticism. Many a 
squatter in the forest was refreshed and cheered by a hearty 
though uncultivated eloquence, but many a wild enthusiast, 
ignorant and earnest, on recrossing the margin of civiliza- 
tion, set up as the founder of a sect. Hence from these 
men sprung ' The Hard-shell Baptists,' 4 The Soft-shells,' 
< The Jerkers,' &c. 

Among the most laborious of these lights of the wilder- 
ness was Bishop Asbury, of the Methodist Episcopal body. 
His labours were Herculean, and his success so great that 
he became the founder of a denomination which numbers 
one-fifth of the population of the United States. One of his 
most powerful associates was James Craven, a man of 
uncompromising hatred towards slavery and alcohol. One 
day, preaching in Virginia, he spoke thus : — 

4 Here are a great many professors of religion to-day. 
You are sleek, fat, good-looking, yet something is the 
matter. You have seen wheat which was plump, round, 
and good-looking to the eye, but when you weighed it you 



INTRODUCTION . X Vll 

found it only came to forty-five pounds to the bushel, 
instead of sixty or sixty-three. Take a kernel of that 
wheat between your thumb and finger, hold it up, squeeze 
it, and pop goes the weevil. Now, you good-looking pro- 
fessors of religion, you are plump and round, but you only 
weigh some forty-five pounds to the bushel. What is the 
matter ? When you are taken between the thumb of the 
Law and the finger of the Gospel, held up to the light and 
squeezed, out pops the whisky bottle.' 

Another celebrated pioneer was Haxley. He excelled 
in home-thrusts. One day he addressed his- audience as 
follows : — 

6 Ah ! yes, you sisters here at church look as sweet and 
smiling as if you were angels ; and one of you says to me, 
" Come and take dinner with me, brother Haxley." I go. 
When I arrive you say, " Sit down while I see about dinner," 
and you go into the kitchen, and then I hear somebody cry 
out, " Don't missus, don't !" and I hear the sound of blows, 
and the poor girl screaming, and the lovely sisrer a whalin' 
and trouncin' Sallie in the kitchen ; and when she has got 
through she comes back looking as smiling and sweet as a 
summer day, as if she had just come from sayin' her 
prayers. That's what you call Christianity, is it?' 

A no less remarkable character was Peter Cartwright. 
He was a great anti-slavery man, and struck right and left 
at all comers. One day, on approaching a ferry across the 
river Illinois, he heard the ferryman swearing terribly at 
the sermons of Peter Cartwright, and threatening that 
if he ever had to ferry the preacher across, and knew him, 
he would drown him in the river. Peter, unrecognized, 
said to the ferryman, ' Stranger, I want you to put me 
across.' ' Wait till I'm ready,' said the ferryman, and 
pursued his conversation and strictures on Peter Cart- 
wright. Having finished, he turned to Peter and said, 
' Now I'll put you across.' On reaching the middle of the 



XV111 INTRODUCTION. 

stream, Peter threw his horse's bridle over a stake in the 
boat, and told the ferryman to let go his pole. ' What for ?' 
asked the ferryman. ' Well, you've just been using my 
name improper-like ; and you said, if I ever came this way 
you would drown me. Now you've got a chance.' ' Is your 
name Peter Cartwright?' asked the ferryman. ' My name 
is Peter Cartwright.' Instantly the ferryman seizes on the 
preacher ; but he did not know Peter's strength, for Peter 
instantly seized the ferryman — one hand on the nape of his 
neck and the other at the seat of his trousers — and plunged 
him in the water, saying, ' I baptize thee (splash) in the name 
of the devil, whose child thou art.' Then lifting him up, 
dripping, Peter asked, ' Did you ever pray ?' ' No.' * Then 
it's time you did.' ' Never will !' answered the ferry- 
man. Splash ! splash! and the ferryman is in the depths 
again. ' Will you pray now ?' asked Peter. The gasping 
victim shouted, 'I'll do anything you bid me!' 'Then 
follow me, — " Our Father which art in heaven, &c." 
Having acted as clerk, repeating after Peter, the ferryman 
cried, ' Now let me go.' ' Not yet,' said Peter. ' You 
must make me three promises : first, that you will repeat 
that prayer morning and evening as long as you live ; 
secondly, that you will hear every pioneer preacher that 
comes within five miles of this ferry ; and, thirdly, that you 
will put every Methodist preacher over free of expense. 
Do you promise and vow V ' I promise,' said the ferry- 
man ; and strange to say, that very man became afterwards 
a shining light. 

Not the least remarkable among these voices in the wil- 
derness is Milbukn, the blind preacher. He is celebrated 
for a memory retentive beyond all precedent. He repeated 
Chalmers' ' Astronomical Discourses ' after hearing them 
read twice. The Bible is his only text-book, the saddle his 
study chair, and everywhere is his pulpit. There is no 



INTRODUCTION. « xix 

doubt that these eccentric men have a mission. In esti- 
mating their labours from a loftier level, one sees much to 
disapprove, a good deal to dislike, but very much to 
admire. The singleness of purpose, the burning eloquence, 
the hardships they dare and endure, the honest and pungent 
moral truths they drive home red hot in the consciences of 
their hearers, all are worthy of all praise. The Church at 
large has too much ignored the type of congregations for 
which these men are so wonderfully fitted. We have fallen 
back too much on learning, on refined and educated addresses, 
on ecclesiastical proprieties — all most seemly as long as the 
pulpit stands amid cultivated congregations. But in the 
desert, in the log-cabin, by the edge of the western prairie, 
and amid people who have left far behind them all trace of 
civilization, there is need of sterner stuff — a Baptist- like 
clothing and address — words that like Luther's are cannon- 
shot, and sermons that are half-battles. It is in conse- 
quence of the Church of England wanting such men as 
these pioneer preachers that the great mass of the poorer 
classes have fallen away from her pale, or joined other 
communions. How far scripture-readers may serve this 
purpose it is difficult to say. But of this we are sure, that 
a corps of itinerant preachers, sent into the mines of Corn- 
wall and Northumberland, and into the ju regies of civiliza- 
tion in our great cities and towns, regulated and restrained 
by judicious oversight, would do much to spread Christianity 
where it is known only in the shape of an oath, and to 
carry civilization into districts unvisited at present, or at 
least uncared for by Church or Dissent. With the ex- 
ception of the pioneers of the prairies, whose excellence and 
eccentricities we have tried to illustrate, the Church of 
Rome is the only body that has trained a ministry adapted 
physically, socially, and religiously to all grades. She has 
priests for the mob as well as prelates for the Court ; and 



\\ INTRODUCTION. 

pioneers for the wildernesses, into which they carry the 
crucifix with a zeal and intrepidity worthy of a purer mis- 
sion. We live in times when the masses must be Chris- 
tianized, or crushed, or dominant. The last we deprecate, 
the second we would not, the first we must take up and 
prosecute at any expense of time, toil, or money. America 
looks at us from her stand-point. Her praise and censure 
are instructive. We may cast our eyes across the Atlantic, 
also, and by our reflections and comments render our chil- 
dren some service in return. 

It is gratifying to see increasing efforts in all parts of 
the empire to reach the lost and raise the fallen. Halls 
and playhouses are echoing every Sunday with the accents 
of truth, and prayer is offered in all places continually. 
The Church is getting ready for her destiny. 

[Rev. xxii. 20.] 



CONTENTS. 



FAGE 

Dedication xxix 

Preface xxxi 

CHAPTEE I. 

INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. 

A storm — The Persia — The passengers — A wreck — A fog — 
Worship — ' The cerrrcle '—Sunrise — Anchorage — An attack 
of Bacchus — An arrest — A fatal accident — A warning to 
smokers — Warm reception on shore . . . . .1 

CHAPTER II. 

MATTERS AND THINGS IN LIVERPOOL. 

Docks and shipping — Historical and architectural — The Rev. 
Thomas Raffles, D.D.— The Rev. Hugh McNeile, D.D.— 
Charitable institutions — Schools and societies — Libraries 
and museums — William Roscoe — Mr. Thackeray . . .9 

CHAPTER III. 

A WEEK IN LONDON. 

Railway travel — Greatness of London — A morning mist 
— Our lodgings — Charges — Servants — The poor — West- 
minster Abbey — Gothic architecture — New Parliament 
buildings— British Museum — The Tower — Dr. Cumming— 
Mr. Spurgeon . . . 17 



xxii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEK IV. page 

BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 

Dinner at Dover — Crossing the Channel — Calais — Cologne— 
The Cathedral — Shrine of the Three Kings — Church of 
Saint Ursula — Dom Glocke — Other churches — Historical — 
Railway casualty— Serious mistake — Dresden — -Komanisrn 
and Royalty — Frauenkirche — English worship . . .30 

CHAPTER V. 

EN ROUTE EOR VENICE. 

Saxon Switzerland — Speaking German — Smoking and Smokers 
—Vienna — Baden — The Semmering — Valley of the Mur — 
Gratz— Cave of Adelsberg — The dreary Karst — Trieste — 
Across the Adriatic— Venetian fog 41 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 

Origin of the city — The Duomo — The Campanile — Fine pros- 
pect — Piazza and Piazzetta — The Ducal Palace — The 
Library — The Dungeons — Churches — The Rialto — Artesian 
Wells— Adieu , . .49 

CHAPTER VII. 

MILAN AND ITS MARVELS. 

Triumphal entry — The cathedral — The roof— The tower — His- 
torical sketch of the city — St. Ambrose — San Carlo Borromeo 57 

CHAPTER VHI. 

TO THE ETERNAL CITY. 

Beautiful Country — Another peep into the night-gowns — 
Novara — View of the Alps — Battle-fields— Alessandria- 
Crossing the Apennines — Genoa — English Chapel — Seeing 
the city — Christopher Columbus — The cathedral — A relic — 
Leghorn — Monte Nero — Italian names— Civita Vecchia — 
Gasperoni and the Pope — Tete-a-tete with a priest — * A 
friend in need ' — The diligence — Rome . . . .66 



contents, xxiii 

CHAPTEE IX. PAGE 

FIRST DAYS IN ROME. 

Seeking apartments — Settled, unsettled, and resettled — The 
Sabbath — Priestly despotism — A little leaven — Street spec- 
tacles — Blessings for beasts — Beggars — Panorama-lecture — 
The city of the Csesars — The city of the Popes . . .76 

CHAPTER X. 

VETTURA TO TERRACINA. 

Troublesome Facchino — Across the Oampagna — Albano — La 
Riccia— Telle tri — Cisterna— Cora and Norma — A race for 
baiocchi — Pontine Marshes — Foro Appio — Forward again — 
Monte Cir cello— Terracina 87 

CHAPTER XI. 

WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 

A wild story of the Alps — A tender story of Mount Anxur . 96 

CHAPTER XII. 

JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 

Wayside glimpses — Foncli — Itri — Cicero's tomb and Formian 
villa — Extensive prospect— Gaeta — Water-nymphs — Valley 
of the Liris — Sanf Agata — Sessa — Capua — Aversa — Naples 
— History— Population — Trade — Fortifications - . .114 

CHAPTER XIII. 

NAPOLI LA BELLA. 

Environs — Villa Reale — Chiese de Partu — Poetry — A picture 
— Burying in churches — Grotta di Posilipo — Tomb of Virgil 
— The cathedral — Church of St. Paul — Other churches — 
Royal Palace — Capodimonte — The Camaldoli . . 126 

CHAPTER XIV. 

MOUNT VESUVIUS. 

The ascent — The summit — Ancient condition — Grand eruption 
of a.d. 79 — Constant changes — Other eruptions — View from 
the top — Descent — Various impressions . . . .135 



XXIV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XV. page 

THE BURIED CITIES. 

Museo Borbonico— Works of art — Domestic articles — Hercu- 
laneum — Tiie Theatre — ' New excavation ' — Pompeii — 
Temples — * Street of Abundance ' — Theatre — Miscellaneous 
objects— Via Appia — Villa of Diomede 146 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SORRENTINE PROMONTORY. 

Nocera — La Cava — Beautiful Scenery — The convent — Charm- 
ing drive — Amain — Its history — Beggars and begging — Wild 
night-scene — Monte Sant' Angelo — Courage, maccaroni, and 
cheese — Glorious prospect— Qastellaniare — Plan of Sorrento 
— The town and its antiquities — Poetic curiosity . . . 157 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 

Punta di Posilipo — Bagnoli — Nisicla — Pozzuoli — Monte Nuovo 
— Lago d'Averno — View from the cliff— Cumae — Baiae — Pro- 
montorium Misenum — The Solfatara — Lago d' Agnano — 
Grotta del Cane — Fuorigrotta— Frightful assault — Caserta — 
Capua — Adieu to Naples . . . . .. . .168 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CRADLE AND THE THRONE OF ROME. 

The Palatine and the Domus Aurea — Present appearance — 
The Capitol — Its destruction Its restoration — Temple of 
Jupiter — Its influence and utility — Present buildings — Forum 
Romanum — Julian Forum — Augustan Forum — Forum of 
Nerva— Forum of Trajan — Fora Venalia— Temple of Peace 
— Flavian Amphitheatre 178 

CHAPTER XIX. 

MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 

Millearium Aureum— Via Appia — Other Roman roads — Cloacae 
- Aqueducts — Fountains — Thermae of Diocletian — Thermae 
of Titus — Thermae of Caracalla — Thermae of Agrippa, of 
Constantine, of Alexander Severus — Circus Maximus — Circus 
of Maxentius — Temple of Quirinus — Temple of the Sun — 
Porticoes 188 






CONTENTS. XXV 

CHAPTER XX. page 

THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS. 

The fame of the Tiber — Its reputation vindicated — The Campus 
Martius — Its ruined structures — Mausoleum of Augustus — 
Mausoleum of Hadrian — Eoman architecture — Its character- 
istics — Its history — Borromini and his school — Reflections . 200 

CHAPTER XXI. 

HISTORIC NOTICES. 

Rome under the emperors — Extent of the city — Estimate of 
population — Vice and luxury — Gothic devastation — Feuds of 
the nobles — Rome of the middle ages — Pillage by the im- 
perial troops — Papal restorations and improvements — Sixtus 
the Fifth — Subsequent popes — French occupation under 
Napoleon — Pio Nono 213 

CHAPTER XXII. 

BASILICA VATICANUS. 

View from a distance — View from the piazza — The interior — 
The roof— The dome— The ball . . . . . .227 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 

Influence of Borromini upon the style of sacred architecture — 
Church of St. Clement — San Pietro in Vincoli — San Martino 
e San Sylvestro — Santa Cecilia in Trastevera — San Pietro in 
Montorio— Santa Maria in Trastevera — San Lorenzo — II Gesu 
— Ara Coeli — Santa Maria Maggiora — San Giovanni in La- 
terano— San Paolo Fuori la Mura — Sant' Onofrio — Santa 
Maria ad Martyres — San Stephano Rotondo .... 236 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

PALACES AND VILLAS. 

Roman palaces — Palazzo Doria — Palazzo Ruspoli- Palazzo 
Corsini— Palazzo Barbarini — Palazzo Borghese — Palazzo 
Farnese — Palazzo Colonna — Palazzo Spada— Palazzo Ponti- 
ficio— Palazzo Vaticano— Suburban villas— Villa Farnese — 
Villa Negroni— Villa Pamfilidoria— Villa Madama — Villa 
Borghese — Similarity of these villas 248 



XXVI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXV. page 

ANTEMNE AND FIDENE. 

Solitary ramble on the Campagna — Interesting view — Fierce 
dogs — A ruin — Walk to Antemne — Charcoal sketch — A 
soldier artist— Site of the city — Great battle-ground — Ponte 
Salaro — Scene of Nero's suicide — Necropolis and citadel of 
Fidene — Historical sketch 257 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 

Historical sketch — Our visit — The Campagna — Isola Farnese 
— Antonio Valeri — Tarpeian Rock — Utter desolation — Ponto 
Sodo — Necropolis — Painted tomb — Forum of Roman Muni- 
cipium — Columbaria — Second and third visits — Additional 
discoveries — Serpents — Piazza d'Armi — Temple of Juno — 
La Scaletta — Grotta Campana — Return to Rome . . 266 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

TRIP TO TIVOLI. 

Basilica of San Lorenzo — Wayside glimpses — The Solfatara — 
Tomb of Plautius — Villa of Adrian — Ancient Tiber — Modern 
Tivoli — Temples of Vesta and the Sibyl— Roman villas — 
Pleasant prospects — An Italian tempest — Return to Rome . 283 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE ALBAN MOUNT. 

Strada Ferrata to Frascati — Antonio — Villa Rufinella — Tuscu- 
lum — Cicero's Villa — The Alban Lake — Alba Longa — Emi- 
sario — Ruins of Roman villas — Castel Gondolpho — La Riccia 
— II Rosignuolo — Lanuvium — A priest at play — Nemi — 
Floating palace — Monte Cavo — Return to Rome . . 290 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

LA CHIESA DEL GESU. 

Excursion — Churches of Sant' Agnesia and Santa Constantia 
— Mons Sacer — Catacombs of Sant' Alessandro — Tombs and 
Columbaria — Church of Domine Quo Vadis — Catacombs of 



CONTENTS. XXV11 



CHAPTEK XXIX.— continued. page 

San Calistro and San Sebastiano — Sepulchre of Cecilia 
Metella — Miscellaneous perambulations — La Chiesa del 
Gesu — The music — The sermon — The collection — The illu- 
mination — The effect — Disinterested benevolence — Kemarks 
on preaching — Release from purgatory — Koine is finished . 303 



CHAPTEK XXX. 

FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 

Last view of St. Peter's — Monte Socrate — Civita Castellana — 
Camillus and the Schoolmaster — The Umbrian Hills — Ocri- 
coli — Kami — Terni and its Falls — Short method with beg- 
gars — Spoletto — The Clitumnus — Foligno — Spello — Santa 
Maria degli Angeli — Assisi — Saint Francis and his Order 
— Grotta dei volumni — The Etruscans — Perugia — Battle of 
Thrasymenus — The Papal frontier — Brigands . . . 317 

CHAPTEK XXXI. 

THE CITY OF FLOWERS. 

The beauty of Florence — Comparison with Kome — Cathedral 
and Campanile — Other interesting objects and localities — 
Poetry — Hiram Power — Fine arts — Rape of the Sabines — 
Uffizi gallery — Michael Angelo — Pitti palace — The Flying 
Ass — Agricultural fair — Blasphemy of art . . . 330 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

HURRYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 

Environs of Florence — Pisa — Grand illumination — Past and 
present — Leghorn — Pratolina — Summit of the Apennines — 
Covigliajo — Miniature volcano — Poveri Infelice — Harvest 
wages — Mountain Scenery — Bologna — Ferrara — Padua — 
Venice again — The Peter Martyr — Fine churches — Solemn 
stillness of the city — Across Lombardy — The picturesque — 
Farewell to Italy— The Alps— The Tete Noire— Magnifi- 
cent Iris — From Mont Blanc to London .... 339 



XXV111 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. page 

METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 

Forty-ninth cousin — Illustrious ancestry — Laying of a founda- 
tion-stone — Tea-party number one — Tea-party number two 
— Tea-party number three — Tea-party number four — Tea- 
party number five — Tea-party number six — Tea-party num- 
ber seven — Tea-party number eight — Anecdote of Mr. 
Spurgeon 350 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 

Croly — Melvill — Hamilton — Sketch of the late Edward Irving 
— Critical estimate of * the modern Whitfield ' 366 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

PLEASANT VARIETIES. 

The Browns — Richmond Hill — Thomson — Bushy Park — 
Hampton Court — Cardinal Wolsey — Royal residents — Varie- 
ties — Great Western Railway — Official dignity — Clevedon — 
Myrtle Cottage — Promenade and prospect — Clevedon Court 
— Wrington — Weston-super-Mare — Interesting antiquities . 382 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

SAUNTERINGS IN SOMERSETSHIRE, 

Tender recollections — Uphill — The old church — Ancient for- 
tifications — The Steep Holmes — A legend — The Flat 
Holmes — Bleadon — Hobbs's boat — Lympsham church and 
rectory — Brent Knoll — Delightful view — Burnham and the 
rest 396 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

HEART-RECORDS. 

Home of my childhood — Interesting colloquy — Across the 
daisy-fields to Lympsham — The Wesleyan chapel — Another 
colloquy — The parish church — The churchyard and its occu- 
pants — An old friend — East Brent church — South Brent 
church — An evening scene — The Burnham Bells — ' Hail, 
Columbia!' .407 



DEDICATION. 



To ROBERT CROSS, M.D. 

My dear Cousin : To whom may I dedicate this frag- 
mentary record of an eminently happy year, with so much 
propriety as to you and yours, whose generous courtesies 
contributed so largely to its happiness ? 

The manner in which you received me when I first came 
to London ; the warmth with which you afterwards welcomed 
my return from the Continent ; the unwearied kindness 
with which you sought to promote my comfort while among 
you ; the many advantages which I derived from your ex- 
tensive acquaintance, distinguished social position, and 
honourable connection with the great movements of metro- 
politan philanthropy ; the interesting places, eminent per- 
sonages, and noble Christian charities, for my knowledge of 
which I am indebted chiefly to your friendly offices and 
the influence of your name : — gave me a new estimate of 
English hospitality, improved my opinion of English 
Christianity, threw a new charm over the land of my 
birth and my boyhood, and rendered my sojourn in 
London more delightful even than my rambles amid the 
venerable ruins of Rome and the classic scenes of Southern 
Italy. 

In your household, a heart long expatriated by Provi- 



XXX DEDICATION. 

dence has found a second English home, around which it 
delights to linger, and from which no time nor change can 
dislodge it. The pleasant hours I spent there, the scenes 
of social worship, the reunions of kindred souls, the festivi- 
ties of the last evening, and the tears of the last morning, 
are among the things that can never be forgotten. I de- 
voutly bless God for the special providence which brought 
us together, and laid the basis of an immortal friendship. 
It was in the sanctuary we first saw each other ; and I regard 
this circumstance as amounting almost to a pledge that we 
shall finally greet each other amid the harmonies of the 
temple not made with hands. 

Till we all assemble in the mansions of Our Father's 
house, accept, I beseech you, this poor expression of my 
love, with ardent prayers for your welfare, and the greatest 
possible happiness of your household. 

JOSEPH CROSS. 
April 14, 1858. 



PEEFACE. 



The dream of years is realized. The fondly-cherished 
hope has become a pleasant memory. I have wept over 
the fields where I frolicked in childhood, and have seen the 
great centre of European civilization, with many of its 
celebrities, and something of its suffering and its sin. I 
have walked the gay Boulevards, paced the stately apart- 
ments of the Louvre and the Tuileries, and mused upon 
the bloody horrors of the Revolution in the Place de la 
Concorde. I have threaded the narrow streets, and admired 
the lofty palaces of Genoa la Superba ; and climbed the 
marble roof and graceful minaret of the many-pinnacled 
wonder of Milan. With the ghost of antiquity I have 
communed amid the mouldering fragments of the Eternal 
City ; and explored the arx and the necropolis of her great 
Etruscan rival. I have stood upon the rostrum whence 
Cicero ruled the populace with his eloquence ; and strolled 
perchance in the footsteps of Horace and Virgil, along 
'the yellow Tiber.' I have plucked wall-flowers from 
the Flavian Amphitheatre, within which many a martyr 
wrestled for his crown ; and wandered over the gardens of 
Sallust and Lucullus, and the vast substructions of the 
Domus Aurea. I have groped in the dismal Catacombs, 
and descended into the damp vaults of the Columbaria, 
and thrust my hand into the cinerary urns of ' Caesar's 
household.' I have trodden the heights of Tusculum and 
Alba Longa, and gazed thence at the majestic dome of the 



XXX 11 PREFACE. 

Basilica Vaticanus, across the desolate Campagna, strewn 
with broken arches and crumbling mausolea. I have 
toiled up the steep cone of Mons Albanus, once crowned 
with the magnificent fane of the Latian Jupiter ; and 
traced the massive pavement of its Via Triumphalis, 
traversed of old by the chariots of kings and conquerors 
From the fountain of Egeria T have drunk* and dreamed 
in the dewy woods of La Riccia, intoxicated with the 
aroma of flowers, and lulled by the love-songs of nightin- 
gales. From ' the shining rocks of Anxur ' along the 
Volscian range, and over the Pontine Marshes I have seen 
the sun sink into the Mediterranean beyond the Circean 
Promontory. I have stood upon the fiery crest of Vesu- 
vius ; and from the rim of his seething furnace, athwart 
the grim furrows of destruction, have beheld the disinterred 
palaces and temples of Pompeii, and the living city that 
conceals the tomb of Herculaneum. My soul has been 
sated with sublimity on the summit of Monte Sant' 
Angelo, and among the cliffs and chasms of Amalfi ; and 
drunk in bewildering draughts of beauty from the blossoming 
hills of La Cava, and the orange-groves of the sweet Saler- 
nian shore. 

Kind reader, give me thy hand, and let me conduct thee 
to these pleasant localities, and point out to thee some of 
the wonders with which the Old World is teeming. And 
if thou art well pleased with thy cicerone, we will walk 
through the buried cities together, and talk of Pliny, where 
he perished in his mission of friendship at Stabiae, and 
breathe the fragrance of the lemon and the magnolia in the 
luxuriant gardens of Sorrento. We will pass through the 
Grotta di Posilipo, to Puteoli, of Pauline memory ; and 
thence to Cumse, and the Sibyl's Cave., and the Lucrine 
Lake ; and along the Misenian Promontory, to Baise, and 
the Mare Morto, and the Elysian Fields beyond. We will 
climb the pine-crested Apennines, and survey the classical 






PREFACE. XXXili 

Soracte, and visit the cascades of the Velino and the Anio, 
and look into the Etruscan sepulchre at Perugia, and sit 
down in the shadow of a wall three thousand years old at 
Fiesole, and from the surrounding hills view the paradise of 
villas and vineyards environing the beautiful Firenze. We 
will muse at the tomb of Michael Angelo, and gaze at 
Brunaleschi's dome and Giotto's marble tower, and listen to 
the magical bells which charmed the ear of Dante, and 
inspect the treasures of art accumulated in the Ufh'zi Gal- 
leries, and feast our eyes with the gems and gold which 
beautify the Pitti Palace, and have a glance at the Arno 
over the laurel hedges of San Miniato, and take a turn or 
two in the Cacina when the evening air is tremulous with 
the soft melodies of the grove. We will speculate on the 
architectural eccentricities or derelictions of Pisa and 
Bologna ; and scrutinize the dismal Ducal Palace at Ferrara, 
with the sad mementoes of Torquato Tasso ; and stroll 
through the sombre streets of scholastic Padua, by the 
tomb of Trojan Antenor ; and shake hands with the poor 
old Queen of the Adriatic, still strangely beautiful in her 
decrepitude and decay. We will enjoy a wayside glimpse of 
the Lago di -Garda, and glide over the waters of the more 
enchanting Como ; survey the pearl-crested Alps from the 
fairy islands of the Maggiore ; bless the ' Soldier of Des- 
tiny ' from the gloomy gorge of Gondo ; look down from 
the Simplon into the frightful gulf of the Saltine ; and 
trace the wild torrent of 6 the arrowy Bhone ;' sojourn a 
few days in the vale of Chamouni ; feast eye and soul with 
the vision of the ' Monarch of Mountains ;' gaze up at the 
' cold sublimity ' of his guardian aiguilles ; traverse the 
glaciers which descend from his hoary shoulders ; plough 
the cerulean waves of Lake Leman ; explore the dungeons 
immortalized by Byron ; overlook Switzerland from the top 
of the Jura ; note the far-famed wonders of the * castled 
Khine.' 



XXxiv PREFACE. 

During our pleasant pilgrimage, I promise thee, thou 
shalt meet with many things not included in the foregoing- 
programme — things to laugh at, and things to weep over — 
battle-fields, and belle arti, and the beauties of Popery at 
home — the chair of St. Peter tottering on French bayonets 
— Pio Nono at Gaeta and in the Vatican — a gambling 
priesthood and a starving populace — crimson-vested cardi- 
nals, and troops of human rag-screens — goddesses trans- 
formed into madonnas, and emperors into apostles — bene- 
dictions for horses, and anathemas for heretics — fiends in 
palaces, and saints in prisons — legends incredible, and relics 
innumerable — miraculous fountains, and deified dolls* — tem- 
ples turned into churches, and outdoing their old idolatries 
— with other mysteries of iniquity, at which men marvel, 
while the heavens protest. 

A recent American tourist declares, frankly, that his 
object in going to Italy was not so much to see the fine 
arts of Rome and Florence, as to witness something of the 
foul arts of the ecclesiastical orders. The writer of this 
volume went to Europe to see everything — fine and foul — 
ancient and modern — pagan and papal — natural and artistic 
— in society and the Church ; and of what he saw he has 
here faithfully recorded his impressions, without prejudice, 
and without partiality. He has aimed at historic accuracy, 
and tried to form a correct estimate of all that came under 
his observation ; and if at any time he differs from truthful 
tourists or competent critics, it is chiefly in matters not of 
fact, but only of taste and opinion. In the department of 
antiquities he has avoided controversy and speculation, 
though he has largely indulged his predilections. In that 
of aesthetics he does not profess to be au fait ; and his 
judgment may frequently be at fault, though his criticisms 
are comparatively few. To minds of a more philosophic 
mould, his admiration of fine architecture or novel scenery 
may sometimes seem excessive ; but the reader will kindly 



PREFACE. XXXV 

remember, that he who for the first time comes forth from 
the seclusion of his study for foreign travel, must be con- 
stantly meeting with what to him are new revelations of the 
beautiful and the sublime. Some may be disappointed in 
this volume at finding less of the minute detail of a con- 
secutive diary than they deem desirable in such a work ; 
for it is a book of fragments, recording only such things as 
most forcibly struck the writer's fancy ; and had he set 
down at large all that interested him during his tour, he 
would have produced a whole library, instead of a single 
volume. 

A late female American traveller calls her sojourn in 
Europe, { A Year of Consolation,' Mine was more — a 
year of varied and intense enjoyment — the happiest of my 
life. Would that the pictures I have drawn might afford 
my friends a tithe of the pleasure which their originals 
afforded me ! This, however, is more than I can hope. 
The impressions made upon my soul, time and change can 
never efface ; but the effort to convey those impressions to 
other minds is very much like an attempt to transfer to the 
dull canvas the tints of an Italian sunset. Aware of the 
inadequacy of language to paint the scenes, the incidents, 
and the personal experiences of so delightful a pilgrimage, 
I sit down to my work with a pleasing despair. 

J. C. 



THE 



AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 



CHAPTER I. 

INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. 

A Storm — The Persia — The Passengers — A Wreck — A Fog- 
Worship— " The Cerrrcle' — Sunrise — Anchorage— An Attack 
of Bacchus— An Arrest— A Fatal Accident — A Warning to 
Smokers— Warm Keception on Shore. 

To break the dull monotony 

Of an Atlantic trip, 
Sometimes, alas ! we ship a sea, 

And sometimes see a ship. 

Francis Osgood. 

It was past midday, on the 6th of December, 1856, when 
we took tender leave of our friends in Charleston, and 
stepped on board the steamship Nashville, as happy and 
hopeful a triad as ever embarked for a voyage. The wind 
blew rough and cold from the north-east, and dull leaden 
clouds hung* over the sea, prophetic of a stormy passage- 
And well did Boreas redeem his pledge. Seldom I 
imagine, without actual shipwreck, have three seafarers 
suffered more in three days than we. But amidst it all, hope 
hung the heavens with rainbows, and every billow blossomed 
as it broke. Sallie heard Mozart's Zauber-Flote in the 
wailing of the winds, and steeped her soul in seas of 
German melody. Jennie saw Raffaelle's Transfiguration 
of the Redeemer, or Domenichino's Communion of Saint 
Jerome, in every cloud that sailed across the sky ; and 
Venuses, and Apollos, and Mercurys, and Jupiters con- 
stantly springing from the surf. As for the scribe, while 
he lay in the slumberous delirium of the mat de mer, or 
looked out from his little window upon the seething floods, 



2 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

every surge became a Brent-Knoll, and every sound of the 
waters brought the sweet murmur of Burnham Beach, and 
the wind that so fiercely contested our progress seemed 
odorous with the breath of cowslips from Lympsham, and 
primroses from Bleadon, and wallflowers from his grand- 
mother's garden. 

On the morning of the 9th we are in New York, early 
enough to secure good state-rooms in the Persia, and enjoy 
an evening with Bishop Janes and his family, and some 
hours with sundry other friends of former years; and at six 
the next evening, under a fair breeze and a full moon, with 
a sea as calm as the Cayuga, we stand bravely out to the 
broad Atlantic. How majestically beautiful is this floating 
palace, three hundred and ninety feet long, and built in 
four compartments, any one of which is deemed sufficient 
to keep her afloat if the others should fill with water ! On 
the deck, at the table, in the state-rooms, how admirable 
is the order observed; inspiring in the passengers a delight- 
ful confidence of security, and giving an attractiveness even 
to the sea ! Her population, exclusive of officers, sailors, 
and servants, is a hundred and' seventy souls, chiefly English, 
Irish, and Scotch, a few French and German, with a 
sprinkling of New England salt. There is a Roman 
Catholic bishop on board — quite plethoric enough for the 
profession — a talkative, intelligent, and altogether agree- 
able man ; with his brother, a well-informed gentleman, 
but rather too frank for a Jesuit, who eight or ten years 
ago accompanied the enterprising prelate on his ' American 
mission/ in the character of a priest, ' rather by way of 
frolic than otherwise,' and appears to have kept up his 
clerical fun ever since. We have also Mr. Osgood, the 
American artist, in our company ; a man of genial mood 
and various knowledge, with a history which ought to be 
written; attended by his wife, an amiable lady, who has 
enjoyed the advantages of extensive travel. Opposite us 
at the table sit three British officers from Canada, one of 
them a son of the Lord Primate of Ireland, two of them 
well freighted with incidents of the Crimean campaign, 
and all of them overflowing with genuine Irish wit. A 
lady who has evidently seen something of the world, and 
is now returning to her home in the land of potatoes and 



INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. d 

of hearts, affords us much amusement with the accounts 
she gives us of her countrymen, whom she very seriously 
pronounces ' the most generous,, the most eloquent, and 
the most deceitfal people in the world.' Last, though not 
least, if you may judge from the attention shown him, 
especially by officers and stewards of the ship, here is Toai 
Thumb, alias Charles Stratton, nearly twenty years old, but 
less than three feet high, and as diminutive in intellect as 
in stature, with his mother, brother-in-law, and a fiscal 
agent, on his way to England, where he is to spend the 
next two years in exhibiting his insignificance. 

Few were the incidents of our voyage. Some of us, 
chiefly the ladies, were pretty well occupied, especially 
when the weather was a little rough, with their own per- 
sonal matters ; and with the rest, conversation and reading 
made the time pass pleasantly. On the evening of the 
third day out we passed the hull of a large schooner, dis- 
masted and apparently abandoned by her crew ; but did 
not pause, I know not why, to investigate her condition. 
On the banks of Newfoundland, as generally happens, we 
were enveloped in a dense fog, through which a sail could 
not possibly have been seen a hundred yards ; yet the 
Persia never slackened ,her speed, but two men with tin 
horns at the bows blew perpetual warning to whatever 
might chance to be in our way, and every fifth minute the 
great steam-whistle sent terrific cautions over the deep. 

The Sabbath dawned. "Worship, according to the ritual 
of Her Majesty's church, was performed on board Her 
Majesty's steamships. But in this instance, where is the 
clergyman ? There is none, and the captain must offi- 
ciate. All hands are summoned, by the tolling of the bell, 
to the long dining-saloon. Most of the passengers are 
present, and as many of the sailors and stewards, I suppose, 
as can be spared from duty, making in all about three 
hundred persons. The bishop and the frolicking priest are 
not of the company, though evidently they ought, in all 
consistency, to recognize the principle which ignores the 
clerical character of the present scribe. We are all fur- 
nished with prayer-books, and the service is solemnly read, 
and the responses are general and hearty. In the midst of 
the prayers, the lay-parson very properly interpolates the 



4 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

petition of the Protestant Episcopal Church for ' the Pre- 
sident of the United States, and all others in authority.' 
Then follows a sermon from Dr. Blair : ' Boast not thyself 
of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring 
forth.' Very appropriate, certainly ; but no one can deny 
that Captain Judkins prays better than he preaches ; and I 
flatter myself, all ungowned as I am, I might have read 
that sermon quite as well myself. A very serious thought 
it is, that never in this world shall we all worship together 
again ; and most sincerely is the prayer breathed, at least 
by some of the worshippers, that we may all hereafter meet 
in heaven. 

Travellers on shipboard have often to pay for their in- 
experience. One day I went to the bow, and stood looking 
out over the sea. When I turned around, a sailor stood at 
my side, with a wrinkle of ineffable mischief in his face. 
1 D'ye see, Serrr,' said he, pointing to a chalk line which he 
had drawn around me upon the deck, ' I've put ye in the 
cerrrcle !' ' Oh no,' I replied, * that is not a circle— only 
a semicircle.' ' Faith,' rejoined he, ' and sure it isn't the 
likes of yer honour that'll be getting off in that way : I 
thought yer honour wouldn't mind giving a pore fellow the 
price of a terrrkey for Christmas.' ' And what is the price 
of a turkey ?' I demanded. ' Oh, the matther of a dollar in 
Leverpole, or a dollar and a quarther for a fat one.' I 
handed him fifty cents. ' Indade, yer honour,' said he, with 
something akin to a sigh, < and ye wouldn't be afther put- 
ting us off with half a dollar : it isn't like yer counthry en- 
tirely.' < But I fear you will spend that for whiskey,' I 
answered. ' I'm sure I never dhrinks a dhrop, yer honour, 
nor haven't for these seven years agone; and besides, I've 
got a wife and fower children in Corrrk.' For his elo- 
quence, more than his wit, I duplicated the fifty cents ; and 
enjoyed the giving quite as much, I doubt not, as he the 
receiving. 

It was the last morning of our voyage. A calmer sea, 
and a clearer sky, could not well be imagined. We were 
gliding along the coast of the Emerald Isle. With one of 
the young officers aforesaid, I went on deck to look at the 
fragments of an ancient castle. At the same moment the 
sun on the opposite side began to emerge from the watery 






INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. 5 

horizon, clothed with so soft a radiance that the eye could 
gaze steadily upon him without pain. When about one- 
third of his form became visible, a ship under full sail, but 
so distant as to appear only a minute speck, passed slowly 
across his disc. Till it entered the edge of the sun, it was 
invisible ; and as soon as its little transit was accomplished, 
became invisible again — an emblem of many things, chiefly 
of human life. 

During the following night we took a pilot, and before 
morning dropped anchor in the Mersey ; having been just 
nine days and two hours, allowing for difference of time, 
between New York and Liverpool. What would have 
been thought of this fifty years ago ? When I first crossed 
the ocean, in 1825, we were nearly six weeks from Bristol 
to Quebec, and it was not regarded as a very tedious voy- 
age. Verily r a little more speed, with the addition of the 
Sub- Atlantic Telegraph, would almost practically realize 
the Apocalyptic prophecy, ' There shall be no more sea ;' 
and whoever has experienced the horrors of sea-sickness, or 
seen those whom he loves writhing in the exquisite indiffer- 
ence of that detestable epidemic of the deep, will surely 
say, i Amen.' 

Two of our fellow-passengers had evidently suffered, dur- 
ing the night, a violent attack from Bacchus, for they were 
still reeling from the effect of his blows. One of them was 
a son of the Green Isle ; and our female friend, his shrewd 
countrywoman, satisfactorily accounted for his condition, by 
assuring us, as Miss Edgeworth had done before, that 
' drunkenness is the natural state of the Irish.' Another, 
who was slightly convalescent, appeared drooping and me- 
lancholy. I inquired after the cause. One of the com- 
pany replied : ' That gentleman sat up all night watching 
for the pilot.' ' And did he see him ?' said I. ' Oh yes,' 
answered my informant, ' he saw two.' This was a coun- 
tryman of ours. 

Before we went ashore, an officer, who had been sent for 
by the captain, came on board, and arrested one of our fel- 
low-passengers as a swindler. He had embarked at New 
York without paying his fare ; and when discovered, three 
days afterwards, had but one and sixpence in his pocket. 
He called himself Baron somebody, and professed to have 



6 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

been an attache of the Prussian Legation at Washington ; 
but as he could give no satisfactory account of his condi- 
tion, he was sent forward to the second cabin. His man- 
ner was very peculiar, and some suspected his mental 
sanity, while others thought he must be labouring under 
some great sorrow, with which a stranger might not in- 
termeddle. The captain, however, seemed to be of a 
different opinion ; and as the poor man had neither friends 
nor money, he was sent to prison, and I never learned the 
sequel. 

Another case was still more melancholy. The second 
officer of the ship, soon after we came to anchor, received 
an accidental blow ; and on Monday they bore him to his 
grave. He was a handsome young man, noble-spirited, 
and full of genial soul. I had often admired his fine open 
countenance during the voyage, and had a pleasant chat 
with him the night before the accident, in which he spoke 
freely of his plans for the future, and dwelt with manifest 
pleasure upon his prospect of success ; but a sudden blight 
fell upon his blooming hopes, and his sun went down at 
noon ; and how forcibly returned to me the text to which 
we had listened a few days before ! ' Boast not thyself of 
to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring 
forth.' 

Of course we could not land till our baggage had passed 
the scrutiny of the custom-house officials. These worthy 
functionaries, however, were early at their posts, and fully 
sustained their reputation. Oh, the pity ! to see piles of 
manufactured tobacco, and parcels of fragrant cigars, 
brought forth from their concealment among soiled linen and 
New York Heralds, ruthlessly turned out upon the deck, 
and remorselessly taxed from ten to twenty shillings per 
pound ! Verily it was almost enough to make one sub- 
scribe to the long-exploded maxim, 4 Honesty is the best 
policy.' And then, the unprofitable rage of some of the 
innocent proprietors, who of course never thought of vio- 
lating or evading the law, though they had ten times the 
quantity of tobacco and cigars that the law allows free of 
duty ; and the silent shame with which others of them 
opened their unwilling wallets, and gathered up their 
costly luxuries — ah, was it not 'a caution!' Sensible 






INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE, 7 

reader, haclst thou been there, thou wouldst have forsworn 
Havanas for ever! 

But tell me, ye travelled sages, why are these inquisitors 
of contraband wares so particular in the examination of 
ladies' apparel ? Does the fact imply a tacit imputation 
upon the honesty of the sex ? It was so here ; it was so 
everywhere upon the continent. Frequently when my 
baggage passed unopened, that of my fair travelling com- 
panions was quite narrowly scrutinised. In the present 
instance, however, we came off much better than some of 
the rest. Whether it was because I waited patiently till 
they were weary of their cruel work, or because our trunks 
had a look of honest leanness, and ourselves no odour of 
the Indian weed ; for some reason or another, these faith- 
ful servants of Her Majesty gave us very little trouble, 
opening only one of our three pieces, and peeping into the 
folds of the first robe de chambre they discovered. 

Before ten the ordeal was over, a passport pasted on 
every box and parcel, and we prepared to set foot upon Her 
Majesty's soil. But the excitement of the morning, in ad- 
dition to her recent sea-sickness, had proved too much for 
poor Sallie's nervous system, and she was found in violent 
spasms upon her state-room floor. This accident delayed 
our landing an hour or two ; but when at length we landed, 
most marvellous were the courtesies which we received. 
Monsieur la Grenouille is generally reputed the politest 
specimen of the genus homo ; but if this was a true exhibi- 
tion of the character of John Bull, his neighbour across 
the Channel must certainly yield him the palm. No 
sooner had our sole-leather touched the wharf, than each of 
us was assailed by at least a dozen persons, men and boys ; 
every one of whom s eemed ready, from excess of kindness, 
to tear us to pieces, or swallow us alive. Such pushing 
and pulling, such thrusting and thumping, I certainly 
never saw in my life ; with all sorts of menacing and re- 
viling ; with noises articulate and noises inarticulate ; but 
no bowie-knives, nor shillelahs. Taking Sallie by the two 
arms, we ran the gauntlet for about two hundred yards, 
and took refuge in the first carriage we came to ; but be- 
fore we had time to recover breath for mutual congratula- 
tion on our fortunate escape, a dozen heads were thrust 



8 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

in at the windows, vociferously demanding pay for pro- 
curing hacks, and carrying trunks, and all sorts of ser- 
vices which we had not received. Jehu saved us by driving 
suddenly away, and left the clamorous throng gazing, and 
running, and shouting after us ; but for which merciful 
incivility of Jehu, there is no telling what might have been 
our fate. Somehow, as by whirlwind — I never did under- 
stand the precise manner — we soon reached the Adelphi, 
where we found ourselves in comfortable quarters, and 
where we remained forty-eight hours, and had all our 
wants supplied, for the moderate sum of 51. lis. 6cl. I 



( 9 ) 



CHAPTER II. 

MATTERS AND THINGS IN LIVERPOOL. 

Docks and Shipping — Historical and Architectural— The Eev. 
Thomas Baffles, D.D.— The Eev. Hugh McNeile,D.D.— Charitable 

Institutions — Schools and Societies— Libraries and Museums — • 
William Boscoe— Mr. Thackeray. 

His words had such a melting flow. 

And spoke the truth so sweetly well, 
They dropped like heaven's serenest snow, 

And all was brightness where they fell. 

The two things most likely to strike a stranger on entering 
Liverpool are its docks and its shipping. The former ex- 
tend along the right bank of the Mersey nearly or quite 
five miles, and have cost in their construction several 
millions sterling. The area of one of them is ten acres 
and of another fifteen. They are so united that vessels 
may pass from one to another without entering the river. 
The Huskisson Dock, for the ocean steamers, is of great 
strength and vast extent. The shipping, crowded together, 
and packed as closely as possible, along the whole line, 
looks like a forest stripped of its verdure. The number of 
ships belonging to the port is reckoned at twenty-two 
thousand, their aggregate tonnage at four and a half 
millions of tons ; and the exports are said to exceed by 
many millions not only those of London, but those of all 
the other ports of the kingdom. 

The history of Liverpool is full of interest. The name 
is derived from Lower Pool. As a borough it is about 
seven hundred years old. It has a population of nearly or 
quite five hundred thousand. A hundred and fifty years 
ago there was only one person in it — Madam Clayton — - 
who kept a carriage. The first public conveyance for pas- 
sengers went hence to London in the year 1757, starting 
once a week, and performing the journey in four days. 
Some five or six railway trains now go every day, mea- 
suring the distance in seven hours. There was formerly a 
castle here and a tower, no traces of either of which are now 



10 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

to be found. The origin of the former is not known, but 
it is supposed to have been of very great antiquity. In 
John Howard's time it was used as a prison, and he visited 
its inmates as an angel of mercy. 

Liverpool has something more than two hundred places 
of worship ; forty of which belong to the Establishment, 
fourteen to the Wesleyans, eleven to the Papists, ten to the 
Baptists, eight to the Church of Scotland and the English 
Presbyterians, seven to the Independents, three to the 
Unitarians, and above ninety to various other sects. Saint 
George's Hall is an imposing structure — one of the very 
finest in England. Saint John's Market exceeds anything 
of the sort I ever saw at home, and when lighted up at 
night looks decidedly attractive. Saint James's Cemetery 
is a great curiosity in its way ; a deep excavation in the 
rocks, originally a quarry, but now converted into a repo- 
sitory for the dead. Legh Richmond was born in Liver- 
pool, and so was Felicia Hemans and many other notable 
personages. But let me speak of the living. 

For many years I had been familiar with the fame of 
the Rev. Thomas Raffles, D.D., successor and biographer 
of the lamented Thomas Spencer, and confessedly the 
most elegant preacher in England. Through the polite- 
ness of Mr. James, a fellow-passenger on board the Persia, 
and an officer in Dr. Raffles's church, I obtained a seat 
with him on Sabbath morning. The edifice is spacious and 
beautiful. It has a gallery all around, one end of which 
is occupied by the choir and a powerful organ. The seats 
below are semicircular, so that every hearer sits facing 
the preacher. At the moment the bell ceased tolling, a 
venerable and very benignant-looking man ascended the 
pulpit, and after a few moments spent in silent prayer, 
and a few more in arranging the book-marks, commenced 
the service. The very first tones of his voice stirred the 
depths of my soul. 1 never heard a hymn read more na- 
turally, more touchingly, in my life. Then followed a 
lesson from the Old Testament, a long prayer, full of sub- 
dued and holy pathos, a second hymn, another long prayer, 
and finally the sermon. The preacher had chosen for his 
text the words of Saint Paul : ' I have a desire to depart, 
and to be with Christ, which is far better.' It seems that 



MATTERS AND THINGS IN LIVERPOOL. 11 

some lady member of his flock, a person of great worth, 
had died during the week, and this was the funeral sermon. 
Most delightfully did the preacher dwell on the Christian's 
departure, his residence with Christ, and its contrast with 
his present state. The church will seat twenty-five hun- 
dred ; it was full above and below ; and throughout the 
whole discourse the audience sat as if perfectly entranced 
by the speaker. When he came to speak of the deceased, 
of what the church had lost in one of its most devoted 
members, and what he had lost in one of his most valued 
friends, his deep musical voice became tremulous with 
emotion, and the tears flowed freely down his venerable 
face. The manner in which he commands the profoundest 
attention of his hearers, and sways their feelings at will, 
after having ministered to them for more than thirty years, 
is a very remarkable testimony to his superior talents and 
piety. At the close of the service Mr. James conducted 
me into the vestry, and gave me a personal introduction to 
the preacher. I told him that I had long known him 
through his writings, especially his life of Spencer ; that 
I had first read that work about twenty-five years ago, and 
it proved a great blessing to me in the earlier part of my 
ministry. He replied with a delightful warmth, i This is 
not the first time, my brother, that I have had occasion to 
thank God that I ever wrote that book.' We then con- 
versed about Spencer, and passed from him to the American 
ministry ; and when I arose to depart, he invited me very- 
cordially to tea with him in the evening, but other en- 
gagements obliged me to decline. 

The evening came, and we went to hear another famous 
divine of Liverpool — the Rev. Hugh McNeile, D.D. A 
cab-drive of twenty minutes brought us to a very large 
cruciform church, in one of the suburbs of the city. A 
man in a black gown met us in the aisle, and conducted us 
to seats near the pulpit. In a few moments Dr. McNeile 
and his curate entered the reading-desk together. The 
prayers were read by the latter, the lessons by the former. 
After this he ascended the pulpit, offered a brief extempore 
prayer, then stood up, with a small pocket Bible in his hand, 
and began his sermon. His voice is like the bass of an 
organ, and he manages it with admirable skill. His enun- 



12 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ciation is remarkably distinct, and occasionally his emphasis 
is terrible. There were passages in the discourse when 
every sentence fell upon the heart like rough masses of ice. 
His manner and style furnish a perfect contrast to those of 
Dr. Raffles. He is entirely conversational, and there seems 
to be no effort at eloquence ; but whoever hears him must 
feel that the preacher is deeply in earnest, and there are 
occasional paragraphs of overwhelming power. His elocu- 
tion reminds one of Dr. Samuel H. C6x, of Brooklyn, or 
Dr. Lyman Beecher, of Boston, though it is more varied 
than either, and somewhat more effective. His style is 
concise and sententious, but not mechanical— occasionally, 
when it suits the thought, quite rough and angular. 
The Eev. Dr. Cumming lately said to me : J Make Dr. 
McNeile's voice a baritone, and give him a little more 
personal majesty, and a great deal more pomp of diction, 
and you have Edward Irving : even as he is, he approaches 
Irving more nearly than any man I ever heard ; but he is 
not equal to Irving.' Dr. McNeile is a Millennarian, and 
puts forth his views of the end in all his preaching. ' I 
say nothing of the time,' said he ; ' I know nothing of that : 
there is a prophetic chronology, and those who make it 
longest bring the end now very near.' Terrible, indeed, 
was the picture which he drew of the last days — the out- 
pouring of the vials of wrath upon the guilty nations of 
Christendom. Severely did he lash the sins of England — 
dishonesty, hypocrisy, political corruption, spiritual wicked- 
ness in high places. ' Whatever the judgment be, and 
whenever it come,' said he, c be assured Britain shall have 
her share ; and whatever that share, she has deserved it : 
there is blood upon her gold, her hands are full of bribes, 
and the sufferings of her poor appeal to Heaven !' One 
would think Dr. McNeile, from his physiognomy, rather 
dogmatical, perhaps ; yet he does not dogmatize, but treads 
lightly and cautiously whenever he approaches the limits of 
controversy. It seemed strange to me to hear one of the 
most famous men of the English Church preaching an hour 
and a quarter without notes, and with all the force and 
fervour that art American Methodist could desire; but so 
preached that evening the Rev. Dr. McNeile, and it was a 
specimen of his ordinary preaching. No man in Liverpool 



MATTERS AXD THINGS IX LIVERPOOL. 13 

wields a greater moral power than he. ' Ah ! but he is a 
firebrand in the Church, sir/ said a railway fellow-traveller 
the next day ; ' he can never be quiet himself, nor suffer 
others to be quiet. 5 ' Would to Heaven,' I answered, 
6 there were many more such firebrands in the Church ! the 
clergy have been quiet too long, and Rome has been reaping 
England while her husbandmen have slept.' ' But he is 
perfectly fanatical, sir ; he is equal to the Wesleyans.' 
1 And you could hardly pay him a higher compliment : but 
for the Wesleyan revival, it is difficult to say what would 
now have been the condition of the Establishment ; it is 
undeniably much better than it was when Wesley began 
his career.' My friend thought it * vain to reason with 
one as fanatical as McNeile himself,' and here ended our 
conversation. But that Sabbath in Liverpool will ever be 
remembered as one of the great days of my life. 

Before I take leave of this interesting city, I ought to 
say something of its charitable institutions, for the multi- 
plication and promotion of which no man has done more 
than Dr. McNeile. They are very numerous, and highly 
creditable to the community. The magnitude and state- 
liness of the buildings devoted to benevolent purposes, and 
the enormous sums of money contributed for their support, 
furnish an interesting illustration of the expansive power 
of Christianity upon the human heart. It is often urged 
against such institutions that their influence upon character 
is injurious to society; that reliance upon eleemosynary aid 
is unfavourable to that spirit of independence so essential 
to industry ; that indiscriminate charity produces selfishness 
and indolence, and thus creates the evils which it aims to 
cure ; that the keen sense of want is the strongest impulse 
to labour, and virtue itself would be unpractised but for 
the sharp goadings of necessity. There may be something 
of truth in all this ; but without such institutions, what 
were the condition of the English, and what the world's 
estimate of English Christianity ? True, men ought not 
to be taught, if it can be avoided, that they may live more 
easily by idleness than by industry ; but this is one of the 
incidental evils attendant upon systematic benevolence, 
and it were certainly better that some should abuse the 
bounty of their benefactors, than that ten times the number 



14 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

should perish without a helper. The multiplication of 
charities, therefore, is after all a safe subject of congratula- 
tion among Christians; and if vicious indolence will take 
such unworthy advantage of our philanthropy, the respon- 
sibility is wholly its own, and constitutes no justification of 
our indifference to the cries of suffering humanity. 

Among the most excellent institutions of Liverpool are 
those for the education of poor children. The war so long 
and nobly waged in their behalf has at length been crowned 
with complete victory. The acquisition of useful knowledge 
by the child is now admitted to be necessary to the welfare 
of the future man, and the proper discipline of the youthful 
mind and heart is practically recognized as the only perma- 
nent safety to society. The community seem to have awak- 
ened to the conviction that intelligence is essential to virtue, 
and that the union of the two constitutes the true basis of 
prosperity. The Parochial Schools, thirty-five in number, 
the Industrial Schools, where more than a thousand children 
are collected for education, and the Corporation Schools, 
which receive annually 2500/. of the public money, are 
doing a noble work ; and so are the Hibernian and Caledonian 
Schools, and the Schools of theWesleyans, the Independents, 
and other religious bodies. The Blue Coat Hospital educates 
nearly four hundred orphans, at an expense of not less than 
4500/. per annum. There are two other orphan asylums, 
which accommodate three hundred children, an admirable 
Seminary for the Training of Governesses, a School for the 
Deaf and Dumb, a School for the Indigent Blind, numerous 
Roman Catholic schools, a Jewish Educational Institute, 
and I know not what beside, all supported, in part at least, 
by charity. The hospitals, infirmaries, dispensaries, lunatic 
asylums, and the magnificent Sailors' Home, I pass over 
with a mere mention, as also the alms-houses, the Victuallers' 
Association, the numerous ragged-schools, and Shoe-black 
Brigades. Nor can I dwell upon the Bible societies, prayer- 
book societies, homily societies, pastoral societies, Protestant 
societies, church-building societies, missionary societies, 
Sunday-school societies, Scripture-readers' societies, religious 
tract societies, evangelical continental societies, societies for 
the promotion of Christian knowledge at home, and societies 
for the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts. And then 



MATTERS AND THINGS IN LIVERPOOL. 15 

you must add friendly societies, and brotherly societies, and 
mariners' societies, and provident societies, and Hibernian 
societies, and Caledonian societies, and emigration societies, 
and strangers' friend societies, and reformed pickpocket 
societies, and societies for the relief of distressed foreigners, 
and societies for the rescue of unfortunate females, and 
societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals, and fifteen 
or twenty more to complete the catalogue. 

The Free Library contains fifteen thousand volumes ; and, 
together with the valuable museum, it is open to all classes, 
without distinction. There is another large library at the 
Athenaeum, instituted in 1797, containing many rare and 
curious works collected by the learned Roscoe, with speci- 
mens of the earliest periodical literature of Liverpool ; the 
< Courant,' of 1712, the 'Advertiser,' of 1756, the ' Com- 
mercial Register,' of 1766, the last-named having the fol- 
lowing notice : ' For sale, by the candle, the hull of the 
Snow Molly. N. B. — Three young men, slaves, to be sold 
at the same time.' The Royal Institute, founded by William 
Roscoe in 1814, is one of the noblest and best conducted 
institutions of the city. It has connected with it a perma- 
nent gallery of arts ; the lower apartment filled with casts 
of the Elgin, Egina, and Phigalian marbles ; the upper 
exhibiting many good specimens of the ancient masters, 
with the whole rich collection of Roscoe ; and at one end 
of the room, a noble statue of the poet;, executed by Sir 
Xhoinas Chantrey, reminding the visitor of the beautiful 
lines addressed to him by one who knew how to estimate 
his character : 

Favoured beyond each towering tree or grove, 
Glad and for ever green the laurel stands, 
Not to be plucked but by heroic hands, 

And sacred to the majesty of Jove : 

No lightning flash may smite it from above, 
No whirlwinds rend it from its rooted bands : 
Obedient to their master's high commands, 

They spare the chosen plant he deigns to love. 
So, midst the tumults of this mortal state, 

While 'thunders burst around and storms assail, 

The good man stands with eye and brow serene, 
In cloud or sunshine still inviolate, 

Confiding in a trust that cannot fail, 

A sacred laurel glad and ever green. 



16 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Mr. Thackeray had just finished his lectures on the Four 
Georges when we arrived in Liverpool, and the press was 
handling him with great severity. Several passages pro- 
nounced in America seem to have been eliminated since his 
return to England, at least were omitted when he lectured 
in Liverpool. I suppose they were written for republican 
ears, and not for those of royalists. # A Scotch reviewer says 
he goes through the house of Hanover as a policeman goes 
through the city, taking no notice of virtue and decency, 
but looking out everywhere for mischief and villany. There 
is doubtless much justice in the criticism ; but what would 
the critic say of what we heard a year before in Charleston ? 
And why should a public lecturer turn all history into satire ? 
Why should he dwell exclusively on the rascality of royalty, 
the hypocrisy of prelates, the quarrels and intrigues of 
courtiers, the faults and infirmities of greatness ? Was there 
nothing good or virtuous, nothing worthy of love or com- 
mendation ? Why, then, is it all ignored ? Is it because a 
fair and honest narration of historic facts would not win so 
many hearers, or gather so many pounds into the lecturer's 
purse ?f But is it right or honourable for a man of letters, 
like Mr. Thackeray, to accumulate gold by such means, 
and seek the applause of the living by caricaturing the 
dead? Is it right or honourable for the most popular 
lecturer of the day to subordinate his noble talents, and all 
the arts of eloquence, to the degradation of human character, 
already, doubtless, sufficiently degraded ; and make the 
finest diction, the keenest epigram, the most brilliant anti- 
thesis, and an elocution universally admired, the instru- 
ments of gain or glory to himself, and of infamy to those 
whose tongues have long been silent in the sepulchre ? 

* This is very doubtful indeed. — Ed. 

f Whatever be Mr. Thackeray's faults, those who seem to know 
him best do not attribute to him these grave offences. — Ed. 



( 17 ) 



CHAPTER III. 

A WEEK IN LONDON. 

Railway Travel— Greatness of London— A Morning Mist — Our 
Lodgings — Charges — Servants — The Poor — Westminster 
Abbey — Gothic Architecture — New Parliament Buildings — 
British Museum — The Tower — Dr. Gumming — Mr. Spurgeon. 

The lady she sate and she played on her lute, 

And she sung, 4 Will you come to the bower ?' 
The sergeant-at-arms had stood hitherto mute, 
And now he advanced, like an impudent brute, 
And he said ' Will you come to the Tower V 

Monday morning, the twenty-first, in company with Mr. 
and Mrs. Osgood, we set forth for the far-famed British 
Babylon. The landscape of green fields and brown hedges, 
hills and vales, pools and streams, parks and gardens, 
meadows and orchards, mansions and cottages, farm-houses 
and factories, church-towers and smoke-steeples, grazing 
herds and trudging kettle-smocks, pretty rural villages and 
immeasurable heaps of coal, seemed one long piece of 
tapestry, unrolling at our side, as we rushed forward to our 
destination. In eight hours we were comfortably settled 
in the heart of the civilized world. Oh, what a pulse goes 
out hence to the extremities, throbbing not only through- 
out Europe and America, but also in India, China, Africa, 
and the islands of remotest seas ! 

It is not easy to comprehend the greatness of London. 
Panoramas, descriptions, statistics, give the stranger but 
meagre ideas of it. One must see it, and thread its labyrin- 
thian thoroughfares, and mingle with its teeming population, 
and hear the eternal din of its manifold activities. Yet if 
figures can help thee, arithmetical reader, think of 1691 
births within an area of eight miles by five, the number 
actually registered for the week of our sojourn in the city. 
Think of 2,500,000 people — princes, nobles, bishops, di- 
vines, authors, teachers, soldiers, merchants, craftsmen, 
coachmen, cabmen, id)ers, beggars, swindlers, gamblers, 
scavengers, courtesans, policemen, pickpockets, burden- 

c 



18 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

bearers, ball ad- singers, organ-grinders, besides Punch and 
Judy, with myriads of transient sojourners from every part 
of the world — good and bad, great and small, wise and 
simple, clean and unclean, clothed and unclothed, housed 
and unhoused, huddled and heaped together, within so 
small a space, along the banks of a narrow ditch, bridged 
above, tunnelled below, and thick with filth between. Think 
of 1 ,600,000 quarters of wheat, 240,000 bullocks, 1 ,700,000 
sheep, 28,000 calves, 32,000 pigs, 4,000,000 salmon, 
5,000,000 codfish, 2,500,000 soles, oysters and eels innu- 
merable, sprats and shrimps incalculable, with whole moun- 
tains of cabbage, cauliflower, potatoes, turnips, carrots, 
parsnips, onions, beets, beans, peas, apples, peaches, plums, 
pears, grapes, currants, apricots, nectarines, medlars, un- 
told quantities of butter and cheese, and a thousand other 
things, eatable and uneatable, annually washed down these 
human throats by 43,200,000 gallons of malt liquors, 
2.000.000 gallons or more of distilled spirits, 65,000 pipes 
of villanous compounds called wines, and not less than 
1,500,000 hogsheads of milk. Think of 24,000 tailors for 
ever plying the needle and the goose to furnish coats for 
all these backs ; 30,000 seamstresses making shirts and 
trousers for them ; 28,000 hatters toiling to keep their 
heads covered from the cold ; 35,000 shoemakers stitching 
and hammering for the welfare of their feet; 40,000 mil- 
liners and mantuamakers to adorn their maids and matrons; 
1 80,000 domestic servants to minister to their needs and 
luxuries ; 300,000 clerks selling them dry-goods and gro- 
ceries ; and I know not how many editors and printers 
labouring for their information and amusement. This is 
London ! 

Now, if thou wilt remember that during the winter 
seventy thousand tons of coal, chiefly bituminous, are con- 
sumed every day within this crowded area, thou wilt not 
wonder at the everlasting twilight, and the occasional noon- 
day darkness, in which the city is enveloped. The * London 
fog,' as famous as London itself, consists of smoke mingling 
with the vapour which arises from the Thames, the sewers, 
and all damp and shady places ; but this is not the genuine, 
and a slight change in the barometer converts it into a 
white mist, and a gentle breeze soon lifts it away. At 



A WEEK IN LONDON. 19 

other times it is as yellow as pea-soup ; this is the prime 
article, a more solid and sensible than which even Pharaoh's 
capital could hardly have furnished — the very thing de- 
scribed in these lines by Henry Luttrel : — 

First at the dawn of lingering day, 

It rises of an ashy gray ; 

Then deep'ning with a sordid stain 

Of yellow, like a lion's mane. 

Vapour importunate and dense, 

It is at once with every sense. 

The ears escape not : all around 

Returns a dull, unwonted sound. 

Loth to stand still, afraid to stir, 

The chilled and puzzled passenger, 

Oft blundering from the pavement, fails 

To feel his way along the rails ; 

Or at the crossings, in the roll 

Of every carriage, dreads the pole. 

Scarce an eclipse with pall so dun 

Blots from the face of heaven the sun. 

But soon a thicker, darker cloak 

Wraps all the town, behold, in smoke, 

Which steam-compelling trade disgorges 

From all her furnaces and forges. 

In pitchy clouds too dense to rise, 

It falls rejected from the skies ; 

Till struggling day, extinguished quite, 

At noon gives place to candle-light. 

It has been ascertained, by accurate observation, that 
the -London fog seldom rises much more than two hundred 
feet above the surface of the Thames. Therefore, the 
dwellers in the more elevated suburbs and environs enjoy 
an air of preeminent salubrity, while the lungs of those 
who inhabit the lower localities of the city are filtering 
the foulest atmosphere. Fifty-four years ago, Wordsworth 
sat on "Westminster Bridge, and wrote this charming 
sonnet : — 

Earth has not anything to show more fair ; 

Dull would be he of soul who could pass by 

A sight so touching in its majesty : 
This city now doth like a garment wear 
The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, 

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie 

Open unto the fields, and to the sky, 
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 



20 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Never did sun more beautifully steep 
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill: 

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep : 
The river glideth at its own sweet will: 

Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep, 
And all that mighty heart is lying still ! 

A beautiful picture, but it was drawn in September, and 
such September mornings may sometimes be seen in the 
metropolis. Who ever saw such a morning here in Decem- 
ber ? Did we, during a week's sojourn, even behold the 
face of the sun ? Twice or thrice we caught a momentary 
glimpse of a large round thing hanging in the sky, about 
the colour of a dingy copper kettle, upon which one might 
gaze for an hour, were it ever visible so long, without the 
slightest visual inconvenience ; and this, we were told, with 
apparent seriousness, was the sun ; and the English sun 
perhaps it was, but I am sure it was not the sun we are 
accustomed to see in America ; for besides being altogether 
of a different hue, it neither rose nor set at the same point 
of the compass ; and one morning, as I can most confi- 
dently testify, it did not rise at all till after ten o'clock, 
for at that hour the lamps were still burning in the street. 
1 And this,' we said one to another, ' is a London fog;' but 
they laughed at our simplicity, and assured us it was 'only 
a morning mist.' I went out and walked in it, but it 
seemed much better adapted for swimming in, and reminded 
me of the waters of the Asphaltic sea. One might almost 
have cut the atmosphere into slices, or rolled it up into 
balls. It must have been in London that Byron wrote his 
i Dream of Darkness,' 

■ which was not all a dream/ 
The mention of Byron reminds me that our lodgings 
were within a minute's walk of those of the poet in 1811, 
and still nearer the house in which Rogers lived, and 
wrote, and died. Hard by, in another direction, is the 
spot where the historian of the Roman empire breathed 
his last ; and but a little farther off, the place where the 
author of < The Faerie Queen ' perished for lack of bread. 
And here, a few doors from us, is the building in which 
Joseph Addison produced many of his finest papers ; and 
yonder the square around which Johnson and Savage 






A WEEK IN LONDON. 21 

walked all night because, like a Greater, they had not 
where to lay their heads. And within hailing distance is 
the famous Almack's, St. James's Palace, the lodgings of 
Pope, and the window where poor Gillray threw himself 
headlong to destiny. One would think that in such a 
locality we must have grown philosophic, sentimental, am- 
bitious, or desperate ; yet I do not perceive that our 
classical environments wrought any particular change in 
our mental moods or habitudes, and we left ' 42 St. James's 
Place' much as we entered, though with a somewhat 
lighter purse, and a slightly less favourable opinion of 
' furnished apartments ' and their proprietors. 

We lived here very quietly in our ' own hired house/ 
eating our own bread and cheese, and paying plentifully 
for the privilege. 

The English servants are doubtless the best in the world 
- — the best trained, the most polite and respectful. But 
they are poorly paid.* The lady in whose house we 
lodged employs a man and his wife, and pays both together 
about one hundred and fifty dollars per annum; they fur- 
nishing their own tea, coffee, sugar, and the like. Some 
get a little more ; but wages in general are extremely low. 
Many of these people would gladly come to Ameiica, if 
they could manage to get here ; and several of them soli- 
cited us to take them with us on our return, offering to pay 
their fare by their subsequent services. All butlers, coach- 
men, &c, wear white cravats. 

On board the Persia, I was solemnly assured that the 
unhappy condition of the English poor is constantly ex- 
aggerated by the American press ; that no other country 
on the face of the earth provides so liberally for the indi- 
gent and the unfortunate ; that overwork on the one hand, 
and want of employment on the other, are far less frequent 
than Brother Jonathan represents them ; and that beggary 
and starvation are entirely unnecessary — the result only of 
improvidence, indolence, and crime. Perhaps it is so ; 
but certainly I saw more indications of pinching want and 
absolute wretchedness during the week we spent in London, 

* This is not correct. English servants are at least as well paid 
as American ' helps/ — Ed. 



22 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

than have met my observation in the United States for 
twenty years. There are five hundred charitable institu- 
tions in the city and its suburbs, supported at an annual 
outlay of nearly two millions sterling ; yet the streets are 
full of ragged boys, barefooted girls, mendicant musicians, 
hunger-stricken countenances, sickly-looking men begging 
bread for their wives, and half-famished women for their 
babes. Early on Christmas morning, an aged female in 
rags, and a shivering little maiden without shoes, struck 
up a Christmas carol beneath our window, singing for a 
breakfast. They had scarcely ended, when a company of 
young boys, some five or six, very thinly clad, and hag- 
gard and woe-begone as human beings well could be, took 
their place. During the day I met with at least fifty such 
parties wailing their joyous numbers.^ 

Our first visit was to Westminster Abbey, where apo- 
theosized greatness lies in its glory. We walked over the 
ashes and among the monuments of princes and statesmen, 
poets and orators, philosophers and philanthropists. In 
these solemn aisles and sombre chambers, genius and roy- 
alty repose side by side, and the tomb of the actress is 
hard by that of the queen. Here hands that penned im- 
perishable thoughts are mouldered into dust, and tongues 
that entranced the listening thousands are silenced till the 
resurrection. 

* Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 
"Twill trickle to his rival's bier : 
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound, 
And Fox's shall the notes rebound/ 

Joseph Addison lies sepulchred in immortality where once 
he loved to walk for the ' agreeable melancholy' which 
' the gloominess of the place and the solemnity of the 
building' were apt to produce in his mind ; and near him 
are Mansfield, Canning, Grattan, and William Wilber- 
force. Richard Brinsley Sheridan sleeps, with Samuel 
Johnson, David Garrick, and Thomas Parr, within a few 
feet of the tombs of ten sovereigns. Among all these 
great names, none is more fragrant than that of Elizabeth 

* The ' human beings' "were some of them Italians, Bohemians, 
Americans, and other foreigners. — Ed. 



A WEEK IK LONDON. 2o 

Fry, who has a record here among those whom the nation 
' delighteth to honour/ And here are the monuments of 
Chaucer, Milton, Spenser, Shakspeare, Dryden, Drayton, 
Cowley, Butler, Goldsmith, Southey, Prior, Cowper, and 
Campbell, ' who are precious in the retrospect of memory, 
and walk among the visions of hope.' Many a pleasant 
hour have I spent in companionship with some of these, 
even in a distant land. Often have they furnished me food 
for profitable thought, and eyes for the appreciation of 
nature ; and often has the sweet witchery of their verse 
stirred the deep fountains of my soul. The last enemy has 
no respect for genius and w r orth ; and to these, and all the 
rest, with slight modification, may be applied the quaint 
inscription on the tablet to William Laurence, erected in 
1621:— 

e Short-hand he wrote ; his flowere in prime did fade, 
And hasty death short-hand of him hath made/ 

But thought and melody are immortal ; and while all that 
was perishable of the poet lies in the voiceless and obli- 
vious tomb, his numbers, like the harp of Orpheus, still 
charm the living world. 

' Dead he is not, but departed ; 
For the author never dies/ 

Hugh Miller thinks Westminster Abbey far inferior in 
beauty and grandeur to St. Paul's Cathedral; and the 
Gothic architecture in general a much lower and less ex- 
quisite production of the human mind than the Grecian. 
It may be deemed presumption in me to differ with the 
great geologist ; but differ with him I certainly shall ; for 
what judge is he in matters ecclesiological, and what busi- 
ness has he with things above ground, who groped all his 
life long like a mole beneath the surface of our planet ? 
The hollow caverns of the earth are his province ; its 
fossils and rocky strata ; the ' coal measures,' and the i old 
red sandstone.' Moreover, the author of ' First Impres- 
sions of England' never travelled beyond the limits of his 
native isle — never saw the Cathedral of Cologne, of Rouen, 
of Strasbourg, nor the marble miracle of Milan, nor the 
matchless spire of St. Stephen's, nor Giotto's incomparable 
Campanile. Let a man look at these, and not form his 



24 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

estimate of Gothic architecture from Westminster Abbey, 
ungothieized by Sir Christopher Wren. Let him look at 
these, and pace their solemn aisles, and wander among 
their stately colonnades and statued pinnacles, and survey 
their massive buttresses and delicate tracery, 

' With storied windows richly dight, 
Casting a dim religious light ;' 

and his taste must be of a different order from mine, and 
must have passed through a different process of culture, if 
he can then pronounce the gorgeous sublimity of the 
Gothic architecture inferior in impression to the severe 
simplicity of the old Grecian models. 

The new Parliament Building is a magnificent failure, 
an all too costly toy. Most of the rooms are inconveni- 
ently small, and some of them are foolishly adorned. The 
Victoria Tower, carried a hundred and fifty feet higher, 
would have been worth looking at ; but as it is, that im- 
mense heap of fine material, with all its affluence of artistic 
decoration, might about as well have been thrown into the 
Thames. # The Clock Tower is a graceful structure, with 
an ugly pyramid at the top, the mere gilding of which 
cost enough to feed all London for half a year or more. 
The great bell — ' Big Ben,' as it has been christened— 
weighs sixteen tons, and had a very musical tone, though 
not the pure harmonic, like that at Florence ; but lately it 
has been fractured, and will require recasting. 

We walked through the parks of London, and rode 
through its principal thoroughfares, and took a peep at its 
palaces and prisons, which externally present a very similar 
aspect, especially St. James's and Newgate. We crossed 
all the bridges of the Thames, and made the tour of its 
marvellous Tunnel, that most ingenious and least useful of 
modern achievements ; and, with the waggish ' Dun 
Browne,' we wondered £ how it could cost so much money 
to dig so small a hole.' We spent some pleasant hours at 
the British Museum, where we saw everything we expected 
to see, with many things we had never dreamed of seeing 
— pictures, statues, torsos, gods and goddesses, emperors 

* The author does not evince here a very aesthetic appreciation of 
what is generally thought a chef-d'oeuvre. — Ed. 



A WEEK IN LONDON. 25 

and orators, monstrous preadamite fossils, mummies from 
the pyramids, and winged lions from Nineveh — an asto- 
nishing and instructive collection — a many- vol umed history 
of earth and man. We visited the Tower, and for a 
shilling apiece were shown the Regalia, consisting of 
crowns, circlets, and diadems of gold ; with staves and 
sceptres, swords and crosses, the royal spurs, and many 
other ornaments, all of gold, glistening with gems, among 
which flamed the glorious Koh-i-noor ; besides the ancient 
kings of Britain in their iron and brazen mail ; the 
' Traitor's gate,' at which state prisoners of old were 
forced to enter — through which 

c Went Sydney, Russell, Baleigh, Cranmer, More f 

through which passed the Princess Elizabeth, exclaiming, 
4 Here landeth as true a subject as ever landed at these 
stairs, and before thee, God, I speak it V the dungeon 
in which Sir Walter Raleigh wrote his 'Political Discourses,' 
and began his ' History of the World ;' other dungeons, 
with the names and woes of those who suffered in them, and 
many an appeal to Heaven against the injustice of their 
imprisonment, rudely engraven by their own hands upon 
the walls ; the block on which Lady Jane Grey, and Anne 
Boleyn, and Catherine Howard were beheaded ; and the 
identical axe that completed the triumph of Cromwell, by 
severing the neck of Charles the First ; with other 
splendours and horrors ' too numerous to mention.' 

Sabbath morning we sat under the ministry of Dr. 
Gumming at Crown Court. His prayer was appropriate, 
but nothing remarkable. His Scripture lesson was followed 
with an exposition, clear, comprehensive, and very beautiful, 
occupying fifteen or twenty minutes. His sermon was just 
like one of Dr. Cumming's lectures, and no person familiar 
with his writings ever could have mistaken it for anything 
else. There were passages in it of considerable beauty, 
but nothing bold or striking. We were wafted along by a 
gentle breeze, on a smooth and placid stream, lined with 
the vernal emerald, with here and there a gay bank of 
primroses, and a cluster of sweet-breathing violets, while 
the soft air trembled with the mellow symphonies of birds, 
and the chiming of silver bells ; but there was no Niagara, 



20 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

no thunder-cloud upon the deep, no tornado in the forest, 
no trumpet summoning to the battle, nothing to stir and 
stimulate the soul, though there was much to interest, to 
gratify, and to soothe. The manner was suited to the 
matter — gentle, winning, faultless, except that it was rather 
too fine — too manifestly studied and artistic ; the voice, 
very pleasing ; the enunciation, remarkably clear and 
precise ; the gesticulation graceful, dignified, and appro- 
priate ; the entire elocution, indeed, finished and elegant 
to the last degree.* Dr. Cumming is a very popular 
preacher, and a pastor universally beloved. After having 
ministered to the same flock for twenty-five years, the place 
is still crowded every Sabbath to its utmost capacity. 
Presiding over one of the largest churches in England, he 
manages to publish two or three duodecimo volumes a year. 
After service, I had an interview with him in the vestry, 
and found him very cordial and agreeable. He said he 
was quite partial to American books, found in them a 
certain freshness and vigour of thought with which he was 
always delighted, and should hope some day to make the 
personal acquaintance of some of our writers on their 
own free soil, were it not for his ' dread of that broad 
Atlantic' 

In the evening we went to hear Mr. Spurgeon. By 
previous arrangement with the sexton, we were at the great 
New Park Street Chapel an hour before the time of service ; 
and though the weather was extremely disagreeable, we 
found a crowd of people, women as well as men, waiting 
for admittance, and two or three policemen on duty. When 
the side gate was unlocked for our party, there was a rush 
to effect an entrance, and the policemen were obliged to 
interfere. We were shown to a convenient seat, not far 
from the pulpit. Soon the pewholders came thronging in, 
and every seat was occupied. Then the doors were thrown 
open, and galleries and aisles were instantly filled, and 
multitudes still stood without in the drizzling rain, to catch 
if possible a sentence or a word. At the appointed moment, 
a short, fat, fresh, round-faced, good-natured-looking youth, 
ascended the pulpit — a huge, unhandsome box, elevated 

* The writer's spectacles must here have been sadly at fault.-— Ed. 



A WEEK IN LONDON. 27 

about ten feet above the audience — knelt a moment in 
silent prayer, then rose and read a psalm, with great 
emphasis, in a full, clear, powerful voice, more remarkable 
for volume than for either compass or melody. The 
precentor, standing behind a little desk at the foot of the 
pulpit, announced the tune, and led forth the music ; when 
the whole congregation fell to, amd sung ' as the voice of 
many waters. 5 The reverend gentleman then read a short 
lesson from the New Testament, explaining every verse as 
he proceeded ; and the very first sentence of the exposition 
was a bold and unqualified enunciation of the Genevan 
dogma of unconditional election, founded upon the Evan- 
gelical statement, that ' Jesus took three of his disciples up 
into a mountain, and was transfigured before them.' Next 
came the prayer, which commenced with thanksgiving to 
God for his ' sovereign electing love before the foundation 
of the world,' and closed with an earnest petition for ' the 
day when free grace shall set its foot upon the neck of free 
will.' In rising to begin his discourse, the speaker said he 
had experienced a week of great personal anxiety, and 
since the morning service had been quite unwell ; and 
though he had done his best by way of preparation, he 
felt that it would be impossible for him to preach with his 
usual freedom and force. His text was chosen from the 
account of the Transfiguration : ' And they feared as they 
entered into the cloud; 5 on which basis he reared a highly 
artistic and somewhat fanciful superstructure of three 
stories — 'Clouds, Fears, and Communion? There w r ere 
passages in the sermon of uncommon beauty and power, 
though I was afterwards told that it fell far short of his 
ordinary energy and eloquence. One who was present 
remarked that the preacher himself 'seemed to be in a 
cloud ;' and so perhaps he was ; but ever and anon the 
lightning of his fancy played through its folds, and fringed 
its skirts with fire ; till at last, like the cloud that overhung 
the camp of Israel, it shot up into a pyramid of flame, and 
gave out terrific thunder. Nothing could exceed the 
emphasis with which he denounced the lukewarmness of 
the Church, and the fervour with which he laid siege to 
the hearts of sinners. The conclusion was exceedingly 
picturesque and dramatic ; and the cold thrills ran over 



28 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

me, as he drew the procrastinator to the verge of life, 
trembling and clinging to his failing hopes, cried — i Hands 
off!' then pointed where he fell ! 

Mr. Spurg eon's style is very unequal ; passages, otherwise 
of exquisite beauty, being often disfigured by expressions 
common even to coarseness, as if the stained windows of 
Westminster Abbey had been patched with newspapers, or 
the gorgeous Victoria Tower finished out with a clumsy 
superstructure of unhewn stone. His great excellences are 
his simplicity and directness, his fearless and earnest manner, 
fidelity of application and fervour of appeal, an exceedingly 
happy faculty of illustration, with a powerful and well- 
managed voice, and an action at once easy, natural, and 
impressive. Into the province of logic, I judge, he seldom, 
if ever, ventures ; and herein he shows his wisdom ; for, 
evidently, whatever he was made for, he was not made for 
a reasoner. With this exception, if, indeed, it be not 
deemed a capital defect, he has all the elements of superior 
oratory ; and with his extraordinary dramatic power, I do 
not wonder that the common people follow him by thousands. 
No pulpit man, except Whitfield and Irving, ever attracted 
such crowds in London. His chapel being found too small 
for his audience, he has engaged the immense Music Hall 
at the Surrey Gardens, where he holds forth on Sabbath, 
mornings to eight or ten thousand hearers. They are 
admitted on tickets, at a shilling apiece ; yet multitudes 
come who cannot even obtain a standing- place within the 
walls. The money thus collected, after paying current 
expenses, is to be applied to the building of a large 
tabernacle for the congregation. A short time before our 
visit Mr. Spurgeon was married, when thousands flocked 
to witness the ceremony ; and it is said there never was so 
large a concourse on any similar occasion in the metropolis. 
He is a man of great industry, energy, and zeal ; and his 
physique seems fully equal to the immense demands made 
upon it by the unresting and impetuous soul. Probably 
he receives more calls and pays more visits than any other 
minister in London ; of notes of inquiry, and letters 
soliciting religious counsel, which he generally contrives 
to answer, there is no end ; his preaching is incessant, and 
there is service of some sort every evening in his chapel, 



A WEEK IN LONDON. 29 

and often a prayer-meeting at sunrise. His pulpit indis- 
cretions are those of a frank, simple, warm-hearted boy ; 
for as yet he can scarcely be called a man ; his eccentricities 
are the eccentricities of genius ; and his egotism the egotism 
of zeal. His rough corners will wear off by-and-by ; for 
he can scarcely float in such a current without striking 
here and there against the shore, and grinding now and 
then among the rocks ; and if popular applause does not 
spoil him, of which I trust there is little danger, he is 
likely to prove a very useful man. I had a pleasant 
interview with him in the vestry after service, and was 
delighted to find in his manner the cordiality of the 
Christian, blended with the simplicity of the child ; and 
left him with the settled conviction, that the ' peremptori- 
ness, 5 ' pertinacity,' and ' self-conceit/ so often complained 
of in his character, are but the natural expression of a 
brave, honest, ingenuous, and unsuspecting soul. 



( 30 ) 



CHAPTER IV. 

BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 

Dinner at Dover — Crossing the Channel — Calais— Cologne — The 
Cathedral — Shrine of the Three Kings — Church of Saint 
Ursula — Dom Glocke — Other Churches — Historical — Kailway 
Casualty — Serious Mistake — Dresden — Romanism and Royalty 
— Frauenkirche — English Worship. 

The river Bhine, it is well known, 
Doth wash the city of Cologne ; 
But tell me, nymphs, what power divine 
Shall henceforth wash the river Khine ? 

Coleridge. 

At one o'clock p.m., on Monday, the twenty-ninth, we 
took leave of the metropolis, and three hours of pleasant 
railway travel brought us to Dover. Here we waited four 
hours for a steamer not worth two hours of any man's time ; 
and sat down to a very tolerable dinner, for which we paid 
a most intolerable price. It was amusing to see with what 
amazement a tall Frenchman, a real Ajax in boots, regarded 
his bill. i Monsieur,' said he, * vat you pay for your 
deenare ?' Upon receiving my answer he exclaimed : ' Be 
gare, monsieur, dis is de dearest place in de world ! I pay 
eight sheeling ! Monsieur, you ever hear such ting ? I 
have leetle soup, von leetle fish, von leetle piece chicken, 
two cup coffee, no more, and I pay eight sheeling ! Eight 
sheeling for von such deenare ! Be gare, I nevare see such 
place — nevare — nevare !' 

At eight in the evening we took leave of ' dear old Eng- 
land.' Within half an hour two of the triad were in a 
most pitiable condition. Such rolling and plunging, in 
such a cramped-up little cabin, after having come so 
recently from the spacious saloons and ample state-rooms of 
the Persia, was surely enough to make any one sea-sick 
who is at all addicted to that vice. To the scribe, suffering 
only from sympathy, and not much from that, the passage 
was rather pleasant. True, the weather was cold and 
cloudy, with an occasional sprinkling of snow during the 



BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 31 

first part of the voyage ; but Monsieur of the ' deenare,' 
said it was ' von very fine night,' and most of the passengers 
seemed to concur in the opinion. 

The distance from Dover to Calais is only twenty-one 
miles, and the lights seen at once on both sides, with here 
and there a lamp at the mast of a vessel, and the stars that 
now and then peered through the rifted clouds, made the 
darkness beautiful, and gave enchantment to the waters. I 
sat alone upon the deck, wrapped in my shawl, surveying 
the scene, communing with my own soul, and lulled by the 
music of wind and wave, till lost in a delicious revery ; 
when a form stalked by me through the gloom, indistinct 
as the ghost of Eliphaz the Temanite, and full twice as tall, 
and I heard a voice saying-, c Eight sheering ! eight sheet- 
ing for such leetle deenare ! Be gare, I nevare see such 
hotel before !' 

Two hours landed us at Calais. Judging from the 
Custom-house and the railway-station (for the night permit- 
ted us to see nothing more of the city) this must be one of 
the most miserable places in Christendom. The arrange- 
ments, say rather the disarrangements, for examining pass- 
ports and baggage are unworthy a civilised people — a mere 
form, void of all utility, necessary only for the sake of the 
revenue, but often infinitely troublesome to the traveller. 
If the manner in which these officers dealt with us is a 
specimen, they must very seldom detect a smuggler, assassin, 
or rogue of any other sort. All they did was to open a 
lady's satchel, unroll her night-gown, scrutinize its border, 
and put a few unintelligible scratches upon our passports, 
for w T hich we waited two hours, and had five different fees 
to pay. After this we were detained two hours more— too 
short a time to sleep, but too long to keep awake. Here 
we parted with our friend Ajax, who took the chemin defer 
for Paris ; and as the train started slowly from the station, 
the words once more fell upon my ear : 6 Eight sheeling ! 
eight sheeling for von such leetle deenare !' 

Soon after two we were rushing through the night to 
meet the morning. We had to rush a long time, however ; 
for at this season of the year it is not daylight here until 
about seven o'clock. The dawn revealed a rich level 
country, cultivated everywhere like a garden, intersected 



32 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

by canals and hedges, with fine macadamized roads, and 
long* avenues of elms and poplars, ornamented with church- 
towers and windmills, elegant chateaux and rural cottages 
— the land of our dreams for years, rising out of darkness 
around us. 

Of the towns we passed during the day, the railway car- 
riage afforded us but meagre and momentary glimpses. 
Late in the afternoon we passed through an arched gateway 
in the wall of the ancient city of Cologne, and found plea- 
sant rooms in the Hotel de Holland, overlooking the far- 
famed Rhine. After breakfast the next morning, having 
procured a carriage, and the indispensable commissionaire , 
we set forth on a tour of exploration. Of course the first 
object of interest was the cathedral. Begun in the thir- 
teenth century, it is yet unfinished, and likely to be for 
some time to come. There is a legend which satisfactorily 
accounts for the tardy progress of the work. The architect 
was drawing a plan for the building, when a certain gentle- 
man in black looked over hi^ shoulder, and said : ' Here is 
a much better plan than that, and you shall have it cheap/ 
It was a beautiful plan, and to the architect it seemed per- 
fect. ' What is your price ?' said he. ' Your own soul 
when the cathedral is finished/ was the reply. Of course 
the pious architect inwardly shrunk with horror from such 
a proposition ; yet was he so well pleased with the plan that 
he continued looking at it and talking about it, endeavouring 
to fix its several parts permanently in his mind. Satan, see- 
ing himself outwitted, seized the paper, and tore it to pieces, 
exclaiming : ' You may build according fo my plan, but 
you shall never finish your cathedral !' Yet, in its imper- 
fect state, a mere fragment, it is truly a glorious sight to 
one who has an eye for what is grand or beautiful in archi- 
tecture. 

The present King of Prussia has contributed largely to 
the work, and there is an association, with branches in all 
parts of Europe, collecting money for its completion, which 
will yet require five millions of dollars. It is to have two 
towers, five hundred feet high, corresponding to the length 
of the edifice. The present altitude of the higher one is 
only two hundred feet, and nothing has been added, I 
believe, to its altitude for more than two hundred years. The 



BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 33 

double range of stupendous flying buttresses, and the 
intervening piers, bristling with a forest of pinnacles, 
strike the beholder with amazement and awe ; while within 
the building the massive columns, lofty arches, elaborate 
carvings, and magnificent parti-coloured windows, con- 
stitute, if possible, a still more impressive spectacle. A 
guide, for a few groscheti, conducted us through the chapels, 
filled with shrines, statues, paintings, relics of saints, and 
many other curious things. One of the most remarkable 
is the shrine of ' The Three Kings ' — that is, the three 
sages who came to Bethlehem to see the infant Saviour. 
Their bones are said to have been brought hither from 
Milan by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, in the twelfth 
century, when he stormed and sacked that city ; and to 
have been given by him to the Archbishop of Cologne, who 
had accompanied him in his warlike expedition, and who 
took good care that the precious treasure should be properly 
preserved and honoured. And here are now the three 
skulls, crowned with jewelled diadems, doubtless quite as 
genuine as the bone of St. Matthew shown us in the sacristy; 
and here are the names of the royal saints to whom they 
severally belonged — Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar — 
written in rubies, all contained in a case of curious work- 
manship, bedight with gems, cameos, and costly enamels, 
and ornamented with statuettes of the prophets and apostles. 
At the time of the French Revolution, the shrine, with its 
precious contents, was transferred, for safe keeping, to 
Arnsberg, in Westphalia, and many of its jewels were sold 
to support those who accompanied it ; yet many beautiful 
stones remain, and its value is still estimated at something 
more than a million sterling. Albert Smith tells a fine 
story of a Yankee who tried to buy it ; and when the 
custode told him it was not for sale, threatened to make 
a ' shrine of the three kings ' for himself, and show it for 
sixpence a head, and blow their ' old consarn sky high.' 
Between the shrine and the altar lies buried the heart of 
Marie di Medicis ; and I was afterwards shown, in another 
part of the city, the room in which it throbbed its last, 
close by that in which Rubens' began to beat. 

After visiting several other churches (for Cologne is a 
city of churches) of curious antique architecture, and full 

D 



34 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of holy relics, we were conducted to that of Saint Ursula, 
begun in the twelfth century, and finished in the fifteenth. 
The legend of this saint is very interesting. She was the 
daughter of a king of Brittany. With eleven thousand 
virgins, she made a pilgrimage to Rome. On their return 
through Germany, they were all murdered here by the 
Huns, who were then invading Cologne. In honour of these 
virgin martyrs the church was erected ; and here are their 
bones, dug up from the earth after they had slept a century 
or two, and built into the walls, sixteen feet thick, so that 
the solid masonry is actually a mass of human skeletons ; 
and who will be wicked enough to doubt their identity ? 
The saint herself is said to repose in a sarcophagus behind 
the altar, on which is her reclining effigy, in beautiful white 
marble. We saw also her left arm, her right hand, and one 
of her forefingers ; not less genuine, I suppose, than * one 
of the waterpots of stone in which our Lord turned the 
water into wine,' which was exhibited along with them. 
The skulls of some hundreds of her companions, if not the 
whole of them, a ghastly array, enclosed in silver cases 
with crystal covers, decorate the walls of the choir. 

Our commissionaire said to me, on leaving the church, 
1 Yat you tink of so much relic ?' ' Very little,' I answered. 
' I tink more little as you do,' he added. ' Leven tousan 
virgin ! You tink I believe dat ? It is too much !' ' But the 
priests believe it,' said I ; 'do they not ?' ' De priest V 
exclaimed he ; ' Oh, no, not von priest believe it.' ' Why 
then,' I inquired, c do they show these things to the people, 
and tell us such fine stories about them ?' ' It is von big 
lie,' he answered, with energy ; ' von big lie to get de 
money !' ' You seem to have very little respect, 5 said I, 
' either for the priests or for the relics ; but do you not 
worship the Blessed Virgin ?' ' No,' he answered, still 
more emphatically than before ; ' I worship only God ! I 
worship no saint but Christ !' Yet I observed afterwards, 
in other churches, that he crossed himself occasionally, 
bowed reverently at the elevation of the host, and sprinkled 
himself with holy water as he entered and retired. 

As it was the day of a*solemn festival, the ' Don Glocke,' 
or great bell of the cathedral, was to ring in the evening ; 
so I called our commissionaire, and leaving the ladies 



BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 35 

behind, went out to hear it. This hollow mass of metal is 
twelve feet in diameter, and requires twenty men to swing 
it ; yet its tone, powerful beyond conception, is perfectly 
melodious. The voice of ' Big Ben ' was but the tinkling 
of a sheep-bell in comparison. The majestic sound seemed 
to fill the universal atmosphere, and I thought the music 
worth coming over the Atlantic to hear. I have read of 
an English traveller who heard the bells of his native vil- 
lage in the desert of Sahara ; and if they were all like this, 
the belief of the statement requires no great credulity. 

From the cathedral we went to nine other churches in 
succession, most of which were brilliantly illuminated, and 
many of them thronged with worshippers. The Church of 
the Jesuits, in which we heard some extremely fine music, 
is profusely decorated with sculpture and paintings ; con- 
tains the crozier of Francis Xavier, and the rosary of Igna- 
tius Loyola : and its bells, a very fine set, presented by 
Tilly, were cast from the cannon which he captured at 
Magdeburg. In the Church of the Apostles a priest was 
preaching to an immense audience — not less, I think, than 
three or four thousand, some of whom stood listening with 
profound attention, while others were kneeling in prayer 
before the different shrines and images, and others wander- 
ing about, and talking aloud, while no one attempted to still 
them. We tried very hard to enter the Protestant Church, 
but the throng about the door was so dense that we found 
it quite impossible, and were obliged to content ourselves 
with standing outside, and listening to the service, which 
seemed very simple, and much after the manner of our 
German brethren in Charleston. 

Cologne is a free city, the largest and wealthiest on the 
Rhine. With its two suburbs across the river, it has a 
population of a hundred thousand, ten thousand of whom 
are Protestants, and six thousand and five hundred soldiers. 
It originated in a Roman camp, pitched here by Marcus 
Agrippa. In this camp was born Agrippina, the mother of 
Nero. She afterwards sent to the place of her birth a 
Roman colony ; which was called, after her, Colonia Agrip- 
pina ; the former part of which suggests the derivation of 
the present name of the city. The inhabitants are said to 



36 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

be still very proud of their Roman origin ; and till within 
the last hundred years they kept up many of the ancient 
Roman customs. For more than three centuries, including 
the thirteenth and fourteenth, Cologne was the most flou- 
rishing city of Northern Europe, and was frequently called 
' the Northern Rome.' It then had two hundred magni- 
ficent churches, and was able to send forth thirty thousand 
men to battle. Its subsequent decay is attributed to many 
agencies, the chief of which was the unlimited sway of 
ignorant and bigoted ecclesiastics. They expelled and per- 
secuted its most industrious and useful citizens ; first the 
Jews, then the weavers, afterwards the Protestants ; and 
by these and kindred measures reduced a rich and thriving 
city to comparative poverty and desolation. Since the 
French Revolution, a great change has taken place : the 
people have thrown off their lethargy, trade has revived, 
population has increased, dilapidated buildings have been 
repaired, valuable works of art have been sought out and 
restored, the long-suspended w r ork of the magnificent 
cathedral has been commenced anew, and all things seem 
to be in an improving condition. The streets are very 
narrow, and without sidewalks, and Cologne has long been 
famous as a filthy city. There is no bridge across the 
Rhine, but a bridge of boats ; which, however, is soon to 
be superseded, by a solid stone structure already begun. 
The renowned Eau de Cologne (originally manufactured by 
Jean Marie Farina, now by some twenty-four others, most 
of whom claim the name of the patentee and the right of 
the patent) perfumes the whole civilized world. The 
ladies bought a box of six bottles, and when our sweet 
sojourn here was ended, we resumed our journey toward 
the Eternal City, all redolent of ' the Northern Rome.' 

It was not yet daylight on New Year's morning, when 
we crossed the Rhine, and took the train for Dresden. 
Railway accidents are said to be infrequent in Europe ; but 
was not our progress arrested that day by a capsized loco- 
motive, and a superincumbent pile of shattered cars ? Of 
course, nobody was to blame, and I heard it suggested that 
the engine was probably on a New Year's frolic, and the 
train, like ' poor Tray,' was involved in the consequences, 



BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 37 

' for no other reason than having been found in bad com- 
pany.' ' Kommen sie hieraus V shouted the conductor, as 
he threw open the door of our vehicle ; and we, promptly 
obeying the order, and following through mud and snow, 
walked past the hideous ruin and took another train. Stout 
peasants, in short blue frocks and huge wooden shoes, bore 
our baggage after us upon their shoulders, and we were 
soon pursuing our journey. The detention, however, made 
us too late for the connection at Leipsic, and we were 
obliged to remain there all night. There stopped with us 
at the same hotel an agreeable Polish gentleman, whose 
acquaintance we had made in the car. The next morning, 
when we resumed our journey, one of the waiters, by mis- 
take, put into our carriage a valuable fur overcoat, whicli 
I supposed to be the property of the Polander, and he 
thought to be mine. After we had been travelling an 
hour or two, he asked me, as I thought, what such an 
article would be worth in America, and I answered, 
' Peut-etre cent livres! I had mistaken his question, 
however, as it afterwards appeared ; for instead of inquiring 
what it would bring, he had inquired what I had paid for 
it. When we drew near Dresden, the conductor came into 
our coupe, and began talking very seriously with our friend, 
evidently about the coat. The colloquy was carried on 
partly in French and partly in German, both of which the 
Polander appeared to speak but indifferently. Soon there 
was a transition from the coat to me, and I heard our new 
acquaintance say : ; Er ist Pastor, er ist Doctor J Now 
the conductor turned to me, and asked for my passport, and 
handed me a bit of paper, on which he desired me to write 
my name, residence, and profession. He scrutinized the 
passport, then my form and features, and next what I had 
written at his request, in a most mysterious manner ; and 
I never suspected the cause, till the Polander turned to me 
and asked : ' Ist das Ihr Rock V To which I replied : 
' JYein, ist es nicht der IhrigeV and in a moment the 
mystery was explained. The owner of the article at Leipsic 
had missed his coat ; and upon inquiry, learned that it had 
gone with our party ; and innocently suspecting that it was 
stolen, telegraphed the conductor to that effect, who, as a 



38 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

faithful officer, was now making inquisition for the thief. 
A little explanation satisfied him, and we laughed heartily 
over the error. 

Our Polish neighbour, who for a while took it very 
seriously to heart that he should have been suspected of 
larceny, at length began to see the ludicrous character of 
the affair, and joined in our mirth right merrily. 

Entering Dresden, we crossed the Elbe on a magnificent 
stone bridge of twelve arches ; and in passing from the 
railway station to the Victoria Hotel, recrossed it upon 
another, connecting the old town and the new, and com- 
manding a fine view of a large portion of the city and its 
environs. The latter is called the Old Bridge, and is said 
to have been built with money raised by the sale of indul- 
gences for eating butter and eggs during Lent. The 
situation of Dresden, in a wide valley, with gently sloping 
hills on both sides, and the river winding through it like a 
thread of silver, is very beautiful. It has a population of 
ninety thousand, only five thousand of whom are Papists. 
For its works of art, it has been called 6 the German Flo- 
rence ;' as, for its [Roman antiquities and customs, Cologne 
has been called i the Northern Rome.' Being a cheap 
place to live, and affording excellent facilities for educa- 
tion, especially in music, it has been much frequented for 
this purpose, within the last twenty or thirty years, by 
English and American families. 

Spending a Sabbath here, we repaired in the morning to 
the [Roman Catholic church, where the king attends wor- 
ship, and all the royal family. The King of Saxony, at 
the time of the Reformation, was the special friend of 
Luther, and his most powerful supporter ; but Augustus 
the Second afterwards bartered his religion for the crown 
of Poland, and his successors still follow the Italian apos- 
tasy. We saw royalty and its train, sitting in boxes, like 
those of a theatre, just over the altar — about a dozen 
persons in all ; and but for their situation, some forty or 
fifty feet above us, they looked very much like other 
people, and neither of the most beautiful class, nor of the 
most intellectual. The king himself seemed sleepy and 
indifferent ; while the queen, and one or two others of the 



BEGINNING THE CONTINENT. 39 

ladies, appeared to be very devout. They enter the church 
and retire by a covered bridge thrown over the street, con- 
necting the church and the palace, without descending from 
their lofty opera-boxes to mingle with the throng, or pollute 
their royal sole-leather. The music here excelled every- 
thing of the kind I had ever heard, and is said to be the 
finest in Europe. It is under the superintendence of the 
director of the opera, who on Sunday morning transfers his 
band from the orchestra to the organ-loft, and back again 
on Sunday evening ; so that you may hear the same musi- 
cians, and, possibly, the same pieces, on the same day, 
both in the church and in the playhouse — a very advanta- 
geous arrangement, certainly, for those who wish to com- 
pare the two institutions ! As an artistic performance, at 
another time, I could have enjoyed this music highly ; but 
as a part of Divine worship on the Lord's day, it was far 
from being satisfactory to my feelings. Yet it was the 
best part of the service ; and quite as acceptable to the 
Deity, probably, as anything done at the altar. The edifice 
is very large, built in the Italian style, and rather elabo- 
rately decorated. The pulpit is appropriately built upon 
a pyramid of saints and angels, a true representation of the 
basis of the Papal Church. A man was preaching in it 
when we entered, but the sermon was not very edifying to 
one who knew so little German. 

Returning to our hotel, we stopped a few moments at 
the Frauenkirche, where a man was preaching to about 
fifty persons, though the church would contain several 
thousand. The singing after the sermon was done by a 
choir of boys, accompanied by the organ, in a gallery not 
less than sixty feet high. Their voices were very sweet, 
and the music was simple and delightful. The church is 
circular in form, built entirely of stone, and surmounted by 
a majestic dome, of such solid construction, that the balls 
and shells hurled against it by Frederick the Great re- 
bounded without making any impression. Within, it is 
arranged exactly like a theatre, with parquette, boxes, and 
galleries, of which I counted seven tiers, rising one above 
another to the very cupola. 

At three in the afternoon we went to the English Church 



40 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

— a small, plain, antique-looking structure— where we had 
the ' Evening Service ' in our own tongue, without either 
singing or sermon. In regard to the latter, it is very 
likely we did not lose much, for the Church of England 
preaching which we heard on the Continent was generally 
of a very indifferent character; and here, judging from the 
personal appearance of the minister, and the soulless 
manner in which he read the prayers, to say nothing of 
what others told us of his dullness in the pulpit, it could 
not have been much better. 



( 41 ) 



CHAPTER V. 

EN ROUTE FOR VENICE. 

Saxon Switzerland — Speaking German — Smoking and Smokers — 
Vienna — JBaden — The Semmering — Valley of the Mur — Gratz 
— Cave of Adelsberg — The Dreary Karst — Trieste — Across the 
Adriatic — Venetian Fog. 

The hills— the everlasting hills — 

How peerlessly they rise, 
Like earth's gigantic sentinels 

Discoursing through the skies ! 

Bryant. 

On Monday, the fifth of January, leaving Sallie in Dres- 
den, we resumed our journey. The railway tor some dis- 
tance runs along a delightful valley on the south bank of 
the Elbe ; on the opposite side of which, the hills, rising in 
terraced slopes, covered with vineyards, and ornamented 
with villas, present an attractive view, even in the depth of 
winter. We passed the ancient castle of Schonnenstien, 
now a lunatic asylum, standing on an elevated rock at our 
right ; and a little farther on, the not very imposing sum- 
mer residence of the Court of Saxony. We now entered 
the romantic region called the Saxon Switzerland. It con- 
sists chiefly of huge columnar hills, with level tops, sepa- 
rated from one another in some places by dark and frightful 
chasms, and in others by broad and pleasant valleys. Here 
and there slender shafts, like obelisks, shoot up to a giddy 
height among the clouds. One of these is crowned with 
the remains of a castle, formerly the abode of robber 
knights, and reached by ladders and drawbridges, which 
were easily removed in time of danger, rendering their lofty 
eyrie quite inaccessible to their pursuers. The inter- 
vening valleys and gorges appear to have been formed by 
the action of water, wearing away the softer portions of the 
rock, and leaving the more solid masses standing in peerless 
majesty. Large trees might be seen frequently growing 
out of the crags and crevices half-way up the precipice, 
where there seemed not a handful of earth to nourish them. 



42 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

The highest of these mountains, the Lilianstein and the 
Konigstein, stand frowning at each other across the Elbe, 
which flows a thousand feet beneath. The latter is crowned 
with a fortress, which has never yet been taken, which even 
Napoleon assailed in vain, and which, from its isolated po- 
sition, is justly deemed impregnable. Here the Saxon 
sovereigns have again and again taken refuge from their 
stronger foes, and hither the royal treasures are always con- 
veyed in time of war. 

At the Bohemian frontier we experienced some detention, 
and had no little annoyance from government officers in 
the vise of passports and examination of baggage. In the 
midst of our tribulation, a young soldier, to whom I thought 
I was talking intelligible German, turned away, exclaiming, 
' Ich can nicht Fransosich sprechen ' — I cannot speak 
French. 

What a paradise is this for smokers ! The Germans 
actually smoke at the dinner-table, not even waiting till the 
ladies have retired. In Dresden I saw lamps burning all 
day in little niches along the streets, for the convenience, of 
pedestrians in lighting their cigars. Each apartment in 
the railway cars is provided with a match-box fastened up 
at one side for the same purpose. In our country there is 
generally a ' smoking-car, 5 to which gentlemen may retire 
for that luxurious indulgence : in Germany it is a rare case 
that a passenger can find a car in which it is prohibited ; 
and when he is so fortunate, it is commonly a car of second- 
rate accommodations. We aimed, whenever practicable, to 
secure to ourselves the sole occupancy of a coupe, in order 
to avoid this intolerable annoyance ; but when the passen- 
gers were numerous this was not always to be done, and we 
were compelled to endure it. Now it was, however, that 
endurance proved impossible — seats all full, doors and win- 
dows closed, and every one except ourselves smoking like 
Vesuvius ! Yery mildly and respectfully we began to re- 
monstrate, and this was the prompt reply : ' Gehen sie in 
ein alter e coupe V — Go you to another apartment. 

Passing through Prague and Briin in the night, with a 
pause of only thirty minutes at each, we crossed the Danube 
at eight the next morning, and breakfasted at the hotel 
Erzerzog Karl in Vienna. 



EN ROUTE FOR VENICE. 43 

The capital of Austria is truly a magnificent place, and 
well deserves its sobriquet, i City of Palaces;' though it 
is said to be, Paris itself not excepted, the most dissolute 
capital in Europe. The city proper is small and compact, 
but its architecture is stately and beautiful. It is sur- 
rounded by a thick wall and a deep fosse, outside of which 
is a broad esplanade called the Glacis, full of trees and 
shrubbery, and traversed in every direction by fine foot 
paths and carriage roads. Beyond this open space are the 
suburbs, occupying five times the area of the city, with 
elegant mansions facing the glacis and wide streets con- 
verging towards the centre, entering the walls through 
dark and heavy archways, and meeting at the Cathedral of 
St. Stephen in the very heart of the metropolis. Vienna, 
therefore, is a city within a city ; and it is difficult to con- 
ceive anything more beautiful than this arrangement. The 
panorama from the tower of St. Stephen's resembles a wheel, 
the city being the hub, the suburbs the rim, the glacis the 
space between, and the great streets passing through it 
answering very well to the spokes. 

We rode out to Schonbrun, the summer residence of the 
emperor, a perfect paradise in the season of sunshine and 
flowers ; and walked through its spacious halls, and saw 
some very interesting works of art. On our return, we 
visited several churches, and heard delightful music, and 
gazed upon fine painting and statuary. Canova's funeral 
group in the Church of the Augustines — the white marble 
forms against the dark opening of the tomb which they are 
entering, every line so sad and drooping, and the ensemble 
so modest and so holy— the bowed matron with the urn, the 
tottering old man, the sorrowful maiden, the bitterly weep- 
ing child, and the lion crouching at the portal — produced 
upon me a very profound impression ; while my other half 
gazed, and glowed, and rhapsodized, and rubbed her little 
hands, in a manner quite worthy of the occasion, and some- 
what edifying to behold ; but when, upon turning to Mur- 
ray, we learned that it was only a marble allegory, we both 
felt like what a sentimental young lady feels when, amidst 
her tears over some love-sick novel, she suddenly recollects 
that the story is a fiction, and the reader a fool. 

The Cathedral, though unfinished, is a glorious structure, 



44 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

combining all that is grand and beautiful in Gothic archi- 
tecture. Its carved stone pulpit is a wonderful piece of work- 
manship. Only one of its two towers is completed, and 
that is the most marvellously symmetrical my eyes ever be- 
held. Rising to the height of f< >ur hundred feet, it com- 
mands a fine view of the city and circumjacent country. 
To the south is seen a broad range of lofty hills, a spur of 
the Alps, stretching away to the south-east, and terminating 
in the Schneeberg, which lifts its shining crest above the 
clouds. This region is called the Weinenvald, or Forest 
of Vienna; being covered with trees, among which the 
black fir, a noble species, towers in princely majesty over 
all its fellows. These hills are intersected by numerous 
fertile valleys, beautified with winding streams, and here 
and there overhung by frowning precipices, blending in the 
same view every variety of the picturesque and the sub- 
lime. Beyond them lies a vast wall of lapis-lazuli and 
amethyst, with towers of pearl and pinnacles of crystal — 
the Styrian Alps — towards which we now proceed on our 
pleasant pilgrimage. 

Our first point is Baden, an hour's railway travel from 
Vienna. It is a small town, surrounded by vineyards, and 
dependent almost entirely upon the fame of its mineral 
waters for a subsistence. These waters are deemed very 
efficacious in cases of gout, rheumatism, and various cuta- 
neous diseases. On this account, the place was formerly a 
very popular resort ; but of late years it has been com- 
paratively but little frequented, partly because of the 
superior quality of several other spas, and partly because of 
a dislike which royalty has taken to the town, in conse- 
quence of a madman's attempt to assassinate the late 
emperor there. 

Forty-seven miles from Vienna we reach Glognitz, at 
the foot of the Semmering. Here the railway is carried 
over a mountain three thousand three hundred feet high. 
It is esteemed, I should think justly, the most wonderful 
work of the kind in the world. The distance, from the 
commencement of the ascent to the level beyond the moun- 
tain, is about twenty-five miles ; and in that distance there 
are twelve tunnels and eleven vaulted cuttings, with a 
great number of bridges and viaducts. The great tunnel, 



EX EOUTE FOR VENICE. 45 

at the summit, is one thousand five hundred and sixty-one 
yards long ; and the whole amount of tunnelling exceeds 
four thousand yards. It was interesting, and not a little 
exciting, to see a long train of cars winding, like a great 
serpent, along the dizzy precipice, towards every point of 
the compass ; and ever and anon to behold below us, on 
the other side of a chasm a thousand feet deep, yet so near 
that one might almost throw a stone across the path by 
which we had ascended. 

Beyond the Semmering, the railroad descends a narrow 
valley, traversed by the torrent of the Mur, and shut in by 
lofty and precipitous mountains. Some of the cliffs, which 
overhung our path at the height of a thousand or fifteen 
hundred feet, were terrible to behold ; and here and there 
where the valley opened to a wider prospect, peak upon 
peak, and range upon range, towering away into the re- 
gions of eternal winter, were glorious beyond description. 
We saw many ruined castles, relics of feudal days, in 
situations which seemed inaccessible to any but the eagle ; 
yet these, all were once the homes of heroic men and gentle 
women. As we passed the gates of Gratz, the capital of 
Styria, we met a procession of priests, carrying crosses ; led 
by a bishop, bearing an immense lighted candle in the open 
day. Gratz is about as large as Charleston, beautifully 
situated on the Mur, where the valley spreads out to a width 
of ten or fifteen miles. It is the seat of a university of 
some celebrity. A little beyond this we were shown the 
ruined eastle of Ober-Wildon, immortalized by the re- 
sidence and astronomical observations of Tycho Brahe. 
Then we rushed again into a narrow passage between the 
mountains, and, when we emerged on the other side, beheld 
the Oistrize Spitze, about eight thousand feet high, 
crowned with perpetual snow. 

Not far from Lay bach, where the railroad terminates, is 
the celebrated cave of Adelsberg, said to be the most mag- 
nificent in Europe, and supposed to be the most extensive. 
It has already been explored four or five miles ; but this is 
probably not the end, and new avenues are constantly 
being discovered. We were earnestly advised to visit it ; 
but we had not time to spare ; and after having been in 
the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, what is there under 



46 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ground worth seeing ? So we took a diligence, and con- 
tinued our journey. For a few hours the travelling was 
not unpleasant ; but after that we entered upon the most 
desolate and dreary region I ever saw. This is called the 
Carst, or Carso — an elevated table-land, extending from 
the Carniolian mountains to the head of the Adriatic, and 
far down its eastern coast. It is one vast area of naked 
rock, rent into chasms and fragments apparently by sub- 
terranean forces, without pool or stream, or scarcely any 
appearance of verdure. To render it the more dreary, it 
was swept by a bitter wind, which howled through every 
crack and aperture of the coach, and occasionally came in 
such gusts as threatened us with destruction. We were 
fortunate indeed in not being six hours later on the road ; 
for this was the commencement of the terrible Bora, which 
for three days afterwards raged furiously over that frightful 
waste ; and a traveller who overtook us the next day in 
Trieste, informed us that he saw several waggons over- 
turned, and blown quite off the road. This is no uncom- 
mon thing. Such is the violence of that wind, that no 
teamster will venture out while it lasts, and even the dili- 
gence waits till it is over. It has blown away every par- 
ticle of soil from the rock, and seems sometimes as if it 
would blow away the rock itself. 

We had travelled thus some hours, as uncomfortable as 
travellers well could be, when we suddenly found ourselves 
on the brow of a hill, overlooking towards the south and 
west a vast expanse of water ; and at our feet, between us 
and the sea, apparently so near that one might cast a stone 
into it, a snug little village, with a vast number of small 
sailboats moored at its margin. That was the Adriatic ; 
and this was the city of Trieste, the most important seaport 
of the Austrian empire, numbering perhaps seventy or 
eighty thousand inhabitants; and these were the merchant- 
ships of every nation under heaven, and the great steam- 
shuttles which weave remote kingdoms and contiaents 
together ! By a beautiful winding road between vineyards 
and olive orchards, we rushed down the terraced hill with 
great rapidity ; and yet it was three-quarters of an hour 
before we reached the city ; for when we saw it from the 
top, it was more than five miles distant. Nothing could 



EN ROUTE FOR VENICE. 47 

be more picturesque than the side of the mountain, and 
the winding way by which we descended; and in the 
season of verdure and bloom, the view must be truly 
enchanting. The streets of the city are paved with broad 
flat stones ; and a cleaner city I have never seen, not 
because the people are habitually so cleanly, but simply 
because the streets are too steep for the accumulation of 
any particle of filth. The Hotel de la Ville, at which we 
lodged four days, is exceedingly well managed, but the 
charges are enormous. We were obliged to remain, for 
the Bora raged fearfully ; and recollecting how Saint Paul 
was ' driven up and down in Adria' by just such a wind, 
our dread of it was unconquerable even by the desire of 
seeing Venice. Those days embraced a Sabbath, on which 
we sought ' the British Chapel/ the only Protestant place 
of worship in the town ; read prayers with them, after the 
manner of the Chnrch of England ; and heard a plain, 
earnest, faithful, pungent sermon, delivered without notes, 
and for its spirit and manner worthy of any Methodist 
preacher in Europe or America. In the afternoon, weary 
of reading, and wanting exercise, I wandered to the top of 
the hill, whereon the castle stands, where I accidentally 
stumbled upon the old Cathedral, founded in the fifth cen- 
tury, and built with the fragments of earlier structures. 
The tower, it is said, stands on the foundation of a temple 
of Jupiter ; and it is curious to see fine blocks of carved 
and polished marble interspersed among rough stones and 
bricks in the walls. In the evening I entered a Greek 
church ; and of all the religious services I ever witnessed, 
that which I saw performed there was probably the most 
soulless. The Greeks have two churches, both of which 
are very richly decorated, and one of which is the largest 
and finest religious edifice in the city. The population of 
Trieste represents 'all the nations of the babbling earth 5 — 
Greeks and Orientals, Jews and Armenians, British and 
Americans, French, Spanish, and Italians; and all lan- 
guages are to he heard, and all costumes are to be seen, 
continually in the streets. 

After three days the violence of the wind somewhat 
abated, though still it roared fearfully ever and anon in 
the lofty dome of the hotel, and through the forest of 



48 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

masts in the harbour. Our valet de chambre, however, 
said : ; It is not now Bora : Bora is finish : it is now for 
Venezia good wind.' The next morning, 

* The winds were all hushed, and the waters at rest ;' 

and we embarked upon the calm blue Adriatic for 4 the 
City of the Sea.' As the morning advanced, the dark wall 
of the Rhetian and Friulian Alps, which filled one-third of 
the horizon, changed into amethyst ; and when the sun 
broke through the clouds, the amethyst glowed into jasper, 
and the jasper kindled into chrysolite. The towns along 
the coast, with their white light-houses and lofty campa- 
niles, showed beautifully against the jewelled background. 
We went gaily on, over the laughing waters, with as bright 
a sunshine as could be desired, for about seven hours ; and 
were looking forward anxiously to catch the first view of 
Venice ; when, suddenly, the western horizon darkened ; 
and, almost without a moment's warning, we were en- 
veloped in a fog so dense that we could scarcely see the 
length of the steamer ; and this was accompanied with a 
cold, searching wind, which seemed to pierce the very 
bone. We slackened speed, and felt our way very cau- 
tiously, and the steam-whistle was kept going almost con- 
tinually. The entrance to the harbour is very intricate, 
and we were some three hours making the distance, which 
should have required but thirty or forty minutes; and 
when we cast anchor amid stately palaces and churches, at 
the mouth of the Grand Canal, it was impossible for the 
eye to penetrate the misty veil with which their magnifi- 
cence was shrouded. One of the many gondolas which 
glide over these strange thoroughfares conveyed us rapidly 
to the Hotel de la Ville, where we soon found ourselves 
more comfortably and pleasantly situated than in any simi- 
lar establishment since we left the Astor House ; the 
master obliging, the servants attentive, rooms neat, table 
good, and charges moderate. It was stranger than ro- 
mance, to find ourselves in the palace of the Grassi, in a 
city whose streets are canals, and whose only carriages are 
boats ; and I look back upon the forty hours we spent there 
as a pleasant dream. 



( 49 ) 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 

Origin of the City — The Duomo — The Campanile — Fine Prospect 
— Piazza and Piazzetta — The Ducal Palace — The Library — The 
Dungeons — Churches — The Kialto — Artesian Wells — Adieu. 

There is a glorious city in the sea : 
The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, 
Ebbing and flowing ; and the salt sea- weed 
Clings to the marble of the palaces. 

* * * * 

With many a pile in more than eastern pride, 

Of old the residence of merchant kings ; 

The walls of some, though time has shattered them, 

Still glowing with the richest hues of art, 

As though the wealth within them had run o'er. 

Rogers. 

As soon as possible, we procured a gondolier and a guide, 
and went forth in quest of wonders ; and surely there are 
not many cities in which so many and such a variety are 
to be found. The history of the city itself is one of the 
greatest wonders which time has hitherto recorded. About 
the middle of the fifth Christian century, a few Italian 
fugitives sought refuge here from the sword of Attila and 
the Huns, and supported themselves chiefly by fishing and 
the manufacture of salt. Their commerce flourished, and 
their population increased, and the seventy-two islands 
grew into groups of palaces and temples, to which there is 
not a parallel in the world. 

In the magnificent Basilica of St, Mark we spent some 
pleasant hours, wandering over floors of rich mosaic, be- 
neath arches that glitter with gems and gold, among 
columns, and statues, and bas-reliefs, and monumental 
inscriptions, and relics of departed sanctity. Within and 
without are more than five hundred pillars, of verd antique, 
serpentine, porphyry, and other precious marbles ; but 
they are arranged without much regard to either taste or 
utility, and many of them seem entirely out of place, 
having actually nothing to do but to encumber the build- 
ing, and aid in concealing or obscuring some of its other 

E 



50 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN" EUROPE. 

beauties. Two very fine ones in the vestibule are said to 
have adorned the Temple of Solomon at Jerusalem, and 
two others near them were brought from the Temple of 
Minerva at Athens ; with which I held the following col- 
loquy, in the language of Bonomi : — 

' Care colonne, che fatti qua ? 
Non sapiamo, in verita ! * 

It is said that while the building of this fine church was 
going on, every vessel that went from Venice to the East 
was required to bring back a column, statue, or something 
of the sort, for the work, which accounts in part for this 
princely profusion of precious marbles. The walls and 
floors are all of the same costly material, while the vaulted 
ceiling is covered everywhere with mosaics of coloured glass 
upon a ground of gold. The statues and bas-reliefs, which 
are very numerous, are all by the first masters. The trea- 
sury contains the richest collection of ancient Byzantine 
jewelry in existence, besides some very precious relics. 
Among the latter are these : a piece of our Saviour's robe, 
a fragment of the pillar to which he was bound, one of the 
thorns with which he was crowned, one of the nails with 
which he was crucified, and a handful or two of earth 
saturated with his blood. Who knows not that here repose 
the remains of St. Mark, to whom the Duomo is dedicated ? 
The relics, however, are kept under lock and key, and ex- 
hibited to strangers only on Fridays, except by special 
permission ; and the cathedral has one capital defect— the 
want of light sufficient, especially in gloomy weather, to 
see its beauties to advantage. 

Emerging from the glorious twilight, we ascended the 
lofty Campanile, which stands just opposite the portico, on 
the Piazza. This is probably the most perfect structure of 
the kind in Italy. It is forty-five feet in diameter at the 
base, and three hundred and twenty-three in altitude. The 
ascent is by an inclined plane within, not near so steep, I 
think, as some of the streets we had lately climbed in the 
city of Trieste. Napoleon went up on horseback; and 
before his day such a ride was no uncommon thing. At 

* ' Dear little columns, all in a row, 

What do you there ? Indeed, we don't know V 



THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 51 

the top of the tower, in the large open belfry, whose arches 
support the pyramid, we found a watchman, whose business 
it is to strike the hour upon the great bell, and notify the 
citizens of fires and marine arrivals. 

Would it were possible to convey to my readers an ade- 
quate idea of the prospect we here enjoyed. Beneath us 
was the Piazza, with its surrounding colonnades ; the 
Palazzo Imperiale, with its beautiful garden of ever- 
greens : the roof of the Duomo, with its majestic domes 
and minarets : the grand old Ducal Palace, with its dark 
associations of tyranny and murder ; and the Torre del 9 
Orologio. with its vast dial, and its faithful bronze men, 
standing with lifted hammers beside the bell, and ever and. 
anon warning the people of the lapse of time. All around, 
with its numerous palaces and churches upon its seventy- 
two islands, sat the far-spreading city, divided by the 
broad Canalazzo, running in the form of an S nearly 
through the centre, spanned by the noble Rialto, and 
intersected by a hundred and forty-six smaller canals, 
having more than three hundred bridges ; while the 
Jlolos. throwing their mighty arms around the harbour, 
seemed saving to the sea, 'Hitherto shalt thou come, but 
no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed;' and 
the lighthouses, standing like sentinels at the entrance ; 
and the ships within, sitting calmly upon their inverted 
shadows ; and black gondolas innumerable, gliding to and 
fro, like fairy vehicles, over the streets of water ; to the 
west the railroad, like a great cable thrown across the 
Laguna, mooring the island city to the main-land; to the 
east the Liddo, along whose strand poor Byron used to 
stray, and where he hoped to be buried ; to the south, as 
far as the eye can reach, lodg narrow strips of land, form- 
ing a great natural breakwater, with here and there a 
passage into the blue Adriatic beyond ; to the north, wall- 
ing in the glorious panorama, the Rhetian and Tyrolean 
Alps, which lifted their snowy summits to the sun, all 
glowing with geld and sapphire. It was a sight worth 
travelling half the world's ccirumference to see ! 

We descended into the Piazza San Marco, confessing, 
with Grace Greenwood, that this square is, ' of all I have 
ever seen, the one supreme in architectural beauty and 



52 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

magnificence.' The arcades which surround it on three 
sides, full of gay shops and trattorias, the grand old 
palaces, the gorgeous cathedral, the campanile, and the 
clock-tower, form an assemblage of objects to which, within 
so small a space, I know not the parallel, and think it 
would be difficult for any one to imagine the superior. 
The great bell struck the hour, and ' the Pigeons of Saint 
Mark's' — those beautiful creatures, known wherever Venice 
is named — came to their dinner, which they have received 
daily in this place for several hundred years, some benevo- 
lent person having bequeathed a sum sufficient for their 
perpetual support. 

We approached the Ducal Palace across the Piazzetta. 
On our left we passed a column of red porphyry, about five 
feet in height and three in diameter ; from which, as bur 
guide informed us, the laws of the republic were proclaimed. 
Here, also, delinquent debtors were compelled to stand as a 
spectacle to the populace, and criminals to receive their 
sentence. The sentence was pronounced by the Doge, 
from between two red pillars of the balcony before us, and 
executed between two granite columns at our right. These 
latter columns are among the most remarkable things to be 
seen in Venice. One of them bears a statue of St. Theodore, 
the ancient patron of the city, standing upon a crocodile, 
holding a sword in his left hand and a shield in his right, 
to signify the disposition of the republic more to defend 
herself than to attack others. The other supports a winged 
liQn, with a book in one of his paws, formerly inscribed 
with the words, 6 Peace on earth, good-will toward men ;' 
for v\hich the French substituted their own gospel, ' Eights 
of the man and of the citizen ;' upon which, it is said, a 
gondolier remarked, that St. Mark, as well as the rest of 
the world, had turned over a new leaf. These columns 
were brought from Palestine ; but, after their arrival, they 
lay a long time upon the ground, and no one could tell 
how they were to be raised. A noted Lombardian gambler, 
however, accomplished the work, and claimed as his re- 
ward from the Doge the privilege of playsng games of 
chance, elsewhere prohibited by law, between the columns. 
The demand was granted ; but the Council ordered that all 
public executions should be performed in the same place ; 



THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 53 

and even to this day the Venetians speak of it with horror, 
and avoid it with superstitious dread. 

Entering" by the Porta delta Carta, crossing the grand 
Court within the palace, and ascending the magnificent 
Giant's Staircase, between the two colossal statues of Mars 
and Neptune, by Sansovino, we soon found ourselves in 
those gorgeous halls where the Doges of Venice lived, and 
ruled, and revelled with their nobles. The second room 
we entered, if I recollect correctly, was the saloon of the 
Great Council ; and there were still the seats where sat 
the awful judges. The room is a hundred and seventy- 
five feet in length, eighty-five in width, and fifty-two in 
height ; and its walls and ceiling are covered with the 
finest productions of Titian, Bellini, Tintoretto, and Paul 
Veronese. Here is the library of St. Mark, containing a 
hundred and twenty thousand printed volumes, and ten 
thousand manuscripts. Among the latter are those of 
Dante and Petrarch ; the works of Quintilian and Cicero, 
transcribed by the latter ; the entire Iliad, and part of the 
Odyssey, translated by Leontio Pilato, and copied by Boc- 
caccio ; with many other fine Greek manuscripts, be- 
queathed by Cardinal Bessarion, who followed the example 
of Petrarch, presenting his invaluable collection to St. 
Mark, 

Leaving this great saloon, we passed through the hall of 
the Council of Ten, the hall of the Senate, the hall of the 
College, the Doge's chapel, and among other apartments, 
containing whole forests of statuary, and acres of canvas, 
all glowing with genius and power ; and descended to 
those dismal cells, where so many poor wretches dwelt in 
perpetual night ; and crossed that fearful bridge, which so 
many traversed to return no more. How many thrilling 
stories have germinated here! Could these walls and 
arches tell what they have seen and heard, all the gloomy 
horrors of romance and tragedy would be outdone. 

Bidding adieu to these dreary solitudes, we visited the 
Academy of the Fine Arts ; which, however, I shall not 
attempt to describe, for the very best of reasons ; and 
then wandered from church to church, which here are 
all museums of art, till the eye was actually satisfied 
with seeing. Of the grandeur and magnificence of some 



54 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of these sacred edifices, no one who has not beheld them 
can possibly conceive any adequate idea. Formerly Venice 
had more churches than any other city in Italy ; but many 
of them were demolished by the French ; and many more 
were desecrated, and applied to secular uses. What must 
have been the wealth of the people who reared these stately 
structures, and filled them with such costly decorations, 
and such heaps of treasure ! Among those we visited was 
the Santa Maria Gloriosa de JFrari, which contains the 
tomb of Titian, and a colossal monument to his memory, 
recently completed at the expense of the Emperor of 
Austria — a sitting statue, crowned with laurel, under a 
rich Corinthian canopy. Here is also the noble mausoleum 
of the unfortunate Doge Francesco Foscari, immortalized 
by Lord Byron's tragedy ; and opposite this the six-storied 
tomb of the Doge Nicolo Tron, fifty feet wide and seventy 
feet high, adorned with nineteen full-length figures, and a 
profusion of bas-reliefs and other ornaments. But the 
most beautiful of all (and there are many more, of doges, 
and artists, and saints) is the vast pyramid of snowy 
marble, with its inimitable train of mourners in honour of 
Canova — a repetition of the sculptor's own design for the 
monument of the Archduchess Christina at Vienna. In 
the old convent buildings attached to this church are kept 
the ancient Venetian archives, filling ninety -five rooms, 
and consisting of more than fourteen million documents, 
which are seldom seen by foreigners. The luxurious mag- 
nificence of the Church of the Jesuits — the fine altar, with 
its twisted columns of solid verd-antique — its walls of 
precious marble, elaborately carved, and inlaid with still 
more costly material — defies all description. The Church 
of San Zanipolo, three hundred and thirty feet long, and 
its width at the transepts a hundred and forty-two, has been 
called the Westminster Abbey of Venice; being filled with 
the tombs and monuments of power, arid genius, and 
canonized sanctity. The Church of Santa Maria Formoso 
was the scene of the well-known a flair of the Brides of 
Venice, carried off by the Istrian pirates. The Church of 
Santa Maria della Salute was erected as a monument of 
gratitude to the Virgin after the cessation of the great 
pestilence, in which sixty thousand people perished , But 



THE QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 55 

the most interesting of all — not for its magnitude, its alti- 
tude, or its ornaments, but for its associations — is that of 
San Giacomo di Rialto, just at the east end of the bridge ; 
for here stood the first church of Venice, whose precise 
form and general appearance are preserved in the present 
structure. 

The Ponte di Rialto rather disappointed me. It is 
neither imposing in itself, nor highly decorated. With 
the exception of a few statues and bas-reliefs, which I did 
not think remarkable specimens of art, it looked to me 
much like any other bridge. But it is not without its 
interest, and as I walked over it again and again, and 
paused upon it to meditate, I felt myself accompanied 
' by viewless beings of the mind, more real than any flesh 
and blood — Shylock and Antonio, Bassanio, Lorenzo and 
Jessica, Desdemona and the Moor.'* 

Venice in old times depended chiefly upon its cisterns 
for water ; or brought it, at great expense, from the main- 
land. But now there are many artesian wells, which afford 
an abundant supply ; and the water is of a very good 
quality, though slightly chalybeate. 

It was a cold, clear, beautiful morning when we left 
6 the Sea-born City.' The day was just beginning to 
dawn ; and the stars trembled in the waters of the Grand 
Canal, as our fleet gondola glided over them ; and the 
poverty and faded beauty of the once opulent and mag- 
nificent ' Queen of the Adriatic,' in the dusky twilight, 
looked more desolate and mournful than ever ; and the 
measured dip of the oar, and the soft music of the ripple 
along the basement of marble walls, and the warning cry 
of the gondolier as we shot under a bridge, or round a 
corner, were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the 
scene. A sigh for poor Byron, and another for the un- 
fortunate Foscari, as we passed, for the last time, the 
stately mansions which are almost synonomous with their 
names. Thirty minutes brought us to the railway station ; 
and in half an hour more we were rushing over the iron 
track which connects the city with the mainland. The 
water is three miles wide, but nowhere more than four feet 

* Grace Greenwood. 



56 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

deep. The Laguna is constantly being filled up with the 
alluvium brought down from the mountains; and along the 
whole coast of the upper Adriatic the land is constantly en- 
croaching upon the sea ; and however distant now, the day 
will come when the Venetian canals will be firm ground ; 
and what remains of the city, as the fate of some of her 
neighbours forewarns, will be many miles from the shore. 
The bridge consists of two hundred and twenty-two arches 
of brick and Istrian marble, resting upon eighty thousand 
larch piles driven into the mud ; and its construction cost 
nearly five years' labour of a thousand men, with an outlay 
of two hundred thousand pounds sterling. At its eastern 
end stands the fortress of Malghera, the fall of which, 
eight years ago, induced the surrender of Venice, but 
which has since been repaired and enlarged by the 
Austrian government. 

The plains of Venetian Lombardy, upon which we now 
entered, are much like those of Belgium, though not so 
highly cultivated ; and the inhabitants, of course, appear 
to be far less thrifty and comfortable. The land is every- 
where cut up by canals and ditches, along whose banks are 
interminable rows of stately poplars. The chief produc- 
tions seem to be maize, wheat, silk, grapes, and olives. 
The vines, hanging in festoons from tree to tree, were 
beautiful even in winter. We were constantly passing 
towns and villages, and undertook to count their campa- 
niles, but found them too numerous for our arithmetic. 
Everywhere we heard the sweet music of the Italian 
tongue, sung rather than spoken, and everywhere saw indi- 
cations of the Italian love of the beautiful. The pillars at 
the railroad stations were adorned with rosettes, and the 
trees and posts along our path were hung with wreaths of 
evergreens, and the walls and doorways of the humblest 
dwellings showed the handiwork of the painter and the 
sculptor. One of our fellow-passengers wore a pair of 
pantaloons, decorated with flowers, castles, and animals in 
the brightest colours. But with all their taste, the people 
are poor, idle, vicious, and degraded, beyond all I had 
ever heard or imagined of Italy, though all this was but 
the beginning of what we were destined to see. 



( 57 ) 



CHAPTER VII. 

MILAN AND ITS MARVELS. 

Triumphal Entry— The Cathedral — The Koof— The Tower- 
Historical Sketch of the City — St. Ambrose — San Carlo Bor- 
romeo, 

Italia ! Italia ! thou who hast 

The fatal gift of beauty, which became 

.A funeral dower of present woes and past, 

On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame, 

And annals graved in characters of flame ! 

Childe Harold. 

At eight in the evening of the same day that we left 
Venice, we arrived in the goodly city of Milan. It was a 
grand triumphal entry. The gateway through which we 
passed was a stupendous arch of flame, every building was 
ablaze from base to battlement, and the whole population 
were waiting in the streets to receive us. We had not 
looked for such a welcome, and knew not how to account 
for our sudden glory. We had sent no courier to proclaim 
our coming — our secretary had written no letter to the 
governor — how should the municipal authorities have an- 
ticipated our advent ? and what had made us such favour- 
ites with the populace ? It was the more puzzling, when 
we found ourselves detained so long at the JJogana, pass- 
ports demanded, and nightgowns examined. As soon, 
however, as this scrutiny had convinced the officers of our 
proper identity, our trunks were placed upon a handcart, 
drawn by a human donkey ; while a herald went before, 
across the Piazza and along the Cor so, shouting stento- 
riously to clear a passage through the crowd ; and we fol- 
lowed on foot, partly because a carriage was impracticable, 
but chiefly that the admiring multitude might have the 
better opportunity of seeing the illustrious personages 
whom they delighted to honour. The walk was less than 
a mile, but occupied more than an hour, and we must have 
elbowed our way through at least fifty thousand people. It 
seemed a little strange, that with such an illumination, and 
such an ocean of human life, there was no very particular 



58 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

demonstration of popular enthusiasm ; and still stranger, 
on our arrival at the Hotel de la Ville, that no special 
preparation appeared to have been made for our entertain- 
ment, and we were obliged to accept of such accommoda- 
tions as are usually furnished for common forestieri, though 
the price that we paid for them was suitable to our illus- 
trious rank and triumphal entry. Short-lived, alas! is 
human glory. We soon learned that it was not our worthy 
selves, but their Imperial Majesties, Joseph and Elizabeth 
of Austria, whose arrival, twenty-four hours before, had 
occasioned this splendid illumination and popular con- 
course. { How is it,' I asked a servant, ' that there is no 
shouting in the street? 5 ' The people of Milan, 5 she re- 
plied, ' never shout in these days. 5 ' But are you not glad 
to see your emperor and empress ? 5 ' No ; we do not love 
our oppressors ; there is no joy at their coming. 5 ' Why 
then is the city illuminated, and the Corso full of people ? 5 
6 We are fond of spectacles, and all this is necessary to save 
appearances. 5 She assured us that these were the popular 
sentiments, and that the Milanese only wanted a leader, 
and they would soon be free. I was astonished to hear a 
mere chambermaid discourse of political matters with so 
much intelligence. 

The next day we visited the superb Duomo, the largest 
church in Italy save St. Peter's — four hundred and eighty- 
six feet long, two hundred and eighty-eight feet wide at 
the transept, and a hundred and fifty-three feet high from 
the pavement to the point of the vaulted ceiling. The 
first stone was laid nearly seven centuries ago, and the 
building is still unfinished. The material is white marble, 
from the mountains near the Lago Maggiore ; the archi- 
tecture, Pointed Gothic, with just enough of the Roman- 
esque to relieve its severity. The niches and pinnacles of 
the exterior are ornamented with about four thousand and 
five hundred statues, many of them in the best style of the 
art ; and the completion of the design will require, it is 
said, some fifteen hundred more. Within, it is not cut up 
into so many parts as Westminster Abbey and the Cathe- 
dral of Cologne, and the choir is not separated from the 
nave, so that the whole may be seen at a glance. For 
completeness of detail, and exquisite perfection of finish, 



MILAN AND ITS MARVELS. 59 

there is scarcely anything equal to it in all the wonders of 
Gothic architecture. It looks as if it had been cut out of 
white paper, and delicately fashioned by fair hands, and 
fit to be kept in a bandbox ; or as if it had been intended 
as a toy, or a costly playhouse, for the baby of one of the 
ancient goddesses of the land. And what, indeed, are all 
the fine churches of Italy, but costly playhouses for the 
Virgin Mary ? and what are the pope and his cardinals, 
but dolls and puppets for her amusement? The rich 
hangings, in honour of the emperor and empress, which 
everywhere covered the walls and pillars, were no addition 
to the beauty of the place ; and the whole was much more 
impressive, when we saw it without them, on our return 
from Rome. 

This magnificent church is a basilica, having a nave and 
four aisles, which are divided by four rows of columns, 
each row numbering eight, and every column nearly ninety 
feet in altitude. The capitals of these columns are richly 
sculptured, and the stone fretwork of the lofty arch above 
is exceedingly beautiful. The great doorway in front 
is flanked with two granite pillars, each consisting of a 
single block, the largest of the kind in Europe, which cost 
nearly ten thousand dollars. At the entrance of the choir 
are two immense columns, attached to which, and nearly 
encircling them, are two bronze pulpits, supported by co- 
lossal cariatides, and covered with elaborate bas-reliefs. 
Over the high altar is a splendid tabernacle, containing, 
among other precious relics, one of the nails which fast- 
ened the Saviour to the cross ; and in the rear are three 
gigantic windows of painted glass, each square of which 
displays a distinct and complete historical picture. At the 
foot of the steps leading to the choir, and exactly under 
the octagonal tower, is a grating in the floor, surrounded 
by a railing, intended to admit light into the Silver Chapel 
below, where the skeleton of San Carlo Borromeo lies 
covered with jew r els in a sarcophagus of rock crystal. A 
stairway in one of the transepts leads down to the shrine, 
and thousands go there continually to pay their homage to 
the mouldering bones. I saw, through an aperture behind 
the choir, a candle dimly burning there ; and a poor, 
ragged, cadaverous specimen of masculine humanity on his 
knees, weeping as if his heart were breaking. 



60 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Another subterranean passage conducts to the archiepis- 
copal palace across the street. We eschewed both, and 
took the winding stairs to the roof. It was a long journey, 
but it amply repaid the toil. From the battlements we 
looked down into the broad Piazza, where a band of more 
than eighty musicians were playing a fine opera, upon 
thousands and thousands of people, who were waiting to 
see the emperor and the empress come forth from the 
palace on the opposite side. In a few moments the carriage 
of Her Imperial Beauty appeared, followed by that of the 
Governor of Milan, accompanied by a small corps of 
cavalry; but there was no shouting, nor waving of ker- 
chiefs, nor casting of caps to the skies ; and when we lin- 
gered long in expectation of the emperor, we were informed 
that he would not come out, being afraid to show himself 
to his subjects. 

' Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown/ 

Another flight of steps led us to the very apex of the 
marble roof, where we paused again, to contemplate the 
forest of snowy pinnacles around us, and their sculptured 
decorations. There are a hundred and sixty-six needles, 
all richly wrought, and everyone surmounted by a colossal 
statue. All the statues and bas-reliefs together amount to 
six thousand six hundred and sixteen, and many more are 
yet to be added. From this point we ascended the spire, 
five hundred and twelve steps above the pavement ; and, 
according to our guide, four hundred feet, though the 
books make it something less. It was a fearful height, and 
the tremor which ran through our nerves was not much re- 
lieved by the story told us of a lady who, sixteen years ago, 
fell from the battlement beneath us into the Piazza, a 
distance of nearly two hundred feet. But the view from 
the gallery is glorious : the city at your feet, with its 
palaces and promenades, its church domes and campaniles ; 
beyond its walls, a vast extent of meadow, rice-field, and 
vineyard, adorned with villages and villas, and intersected 
by rivers and canals ; and bounding the prospect on all 
sides, except to the south-east, where the valley of the Po 
is seen stretching away to Lodi and Cremona, the mighty 



MILAN AND ITS MARVELS. 61 

walls of the Alps and the Apennines, serrated, and covered 
with glittering snow. 

When we had finished our survey, we had paid seven dis- 
tinct fees to as many guides, custodcs, and pretenders ; and 
though I have no doubt the amount was twice as much as 
was either just or necessary, we felt that we had got the 
full value of our money. A small sum we invested in a 
pamphlet, descriptive of the cathedral and its contents — 
one of the curiosities of modern literature, of which the 
following item is a specimen : ' Two Old Testament 
pictures ; the one being Hagar, with Ishmael's son, perish- 
ing of thirst in the wilderness ; the other being Abraham's 
wife herself, after she had been driven out.' This book 
was written by a priest. 

The foundation of Milan, the ancient Mediolanum, dates 
from the sixth century before Christ. It contains a hun- 
dred and sixty-five thousand inhabitants, and is certainly a 
very beautiful city, though artists and critics generally find 
fault with its architecture. The streets are finely paved, 
and somewhat wider than those of most other continental 
cities we have visited. Milan was once the second city in 
Italy, though scarcely a vestige of its ancient splendour 
now remains. In the fifth century it was sacked by Attila, 
in the invasion which originated Venice; and in the 
twelfth century its foundations were razed, its population 
dispersed, and its very name obliterated from the list of 
Italian cities, by the vengeance of Frederick the First. 
But this event w r as soon followed by the Great Lombard 
Confederacy ; and in five years more the fugitives returned, 
and rapidly rebuilt the city. A century passed, and 
Milan was again a rich and flourishing place, leading the 
fashions of the civilized world, whence the origin of the 
word ' milliner.' About the middle of the sixteenth century 
it fell into the hands of the Spaniards ; but in the early 
part of the eighteenth was given by the treaty of Utrecht 
to the Austrians, who, with a few unimportant interrup- 
tions, have held it to the present time. The people, how- 
ever, are restive and dissatisfied under the yoke, and the 
perpetual parade of Austrian troops can scarcely keep 
them in subjection. After we left Milan I saw flaming 
accounts in the public prints of the emperor's reception 



62 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

there, and the enthusiasm with which he was greeted by 
his loyal subjects ; but it is sufficient to say, those accounts 
were not written by the Milanese, and those who write 
such generally regard the royal favour quite as much as 
they regard the truth. 

Two names in the history of Milan are worthy of im- 
mortal fame : that of St. Ambrose, in the third and fourth 
centuries, and that of San Carlo Borromeo, in the six- 
teenth. 

St. Ambrose, who had been educated for the law, was 
appointed prefect of Milan by the Emperor Yalentinian, in 
the year of our Lord 374. This important position he 
occupied for five years, during which he distinguished him- 
self for prudence and justice, and won the hearts of the 
whole community. At the end of that time a tumult arose 
in the cathedral about the election of a bishop, and the 
prefect repaired thither to quell the disturbance. A child 
in the crowd, on seeing him, cried out, ' Ambrose is 
Bishop!' The assembly caught the words, and shouted 
with one consent, ' Ambrose is Bishop !' The prefect, the 
layman, was manifestly the compromise candidate, the 
choice of the people. Confounded and alarmed he refused 
the nomination ; but the emperor, who held his court at 
Milan, forced him to accept the honour. Ambrose at once 
made over all his property to the Church, and began the 
devout study of the Holy Scriptures. His subsequent 
labours were earnest and incessant, surpassing in amount 
those of any five bishops in the empire. When the 
Empress Justinia, a patroness of the Arian heresy, com- 
menced a persecution against him, and required him to sur- 
render his church, he repaired thither, and spent whole 
days and nights in devotion, and employed the people in 
singing hymns and psalms continually, nor rested till 
Arianism was quite expelled from Italy. When the 
Emperor Theodosius massacred, without trial and without 
distinction, seven thousand people of Thessalonica for 
killing one of his officers, Ambrose resolutely shut the 
door of the church against him for more than eight months, 
and refused the world's master admittance to the house of 
God till he had brought forth fruits meet for repentance. 
When Austin came from Rome to Milan as professor of 






MILAN AND ITS MARVELS. 63 

rhetoric, though sunk in the depths of Manichseism, the 
brilliant young man was soon charmed by the eloquence of 
Ambrose, who led him to the feet of Jesus and the bosom 
of the Church, and in a few years St. Augustin was the 
great light of the Christian world. The ciceroni of Milan 
still pretend to show the door which the good bishop closed 
against the emperor, and the font in which he baptized his 
illustrious convert. St. Ambrose has been accused of 
nourishing those buds of superstition which had already 
begun to show themselves in the Church, and which two 
or three centuries later blossomed into Popery. With some 
qualification, the charge may be true ; but if history is to 
be relied upon, he lived and died firm in the apostolic 
faith, depending on the merits of Christ alone for justifi- 
cation, seeking the illumination and grace of the Holy 
Spirit, and habitually delighting in communion with God. 
A rich unction of evangelical piety rests on all his writings ; 
and he appears to have been a most fervent, faithful, 
laborious, and benevolent servant of the Church of Christ. 
If he aided the development of monasticism and the growth 
of prelatical pride, it was unconsciously and without 
design : and the humblest and best of Christian bishops 
should not be held strictly responsible for evils which he 
never anticipated and could not possibly foresee. 

Cardinal Borromeo was unquestionably, of all the pre- 
lates of the Church of Rome in the sixteenth century, the 
most enlightened and spiritual, the most laborious and 
beneficent. He is represented by his biographer, and re- 
garded throughout Italy, as a model of all excellence and 
virtue. To find such a character in such a connection — to 
find so much ' gold, silver, precious stones,' mingling with 
so much ' w ood, hay, stubble ' — is matter equally of won- 
der and of joy ; while it warrants the charitable hope that 
there may be more of real evangelical piety in the papal 
communion than Protestants are generally apt to suppose ; 
and shows the identity and the influence of true religion, 
in circumstances the most unfavourable, and under appear- 
ances almost contradictory. 

Carlo Borromeo was created cardinal at the early age of 
twenty-two ; and for several years afterwards he managed 
the temporal affairs of the pope, and presided over the 



G4 • THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Council of Trent. In 1565 he was made Archbishop of 
Milan, and went to reside in his diocese. He at once re- 
signed all his other preferments, and gave up the chief of 
his estates to his family. His archiepiscopal revenues he 
divided into three parts — one for the poor, another for the 
repairing and building of churches, the third for his own 
domestic expenditure ; thus devoting two-thirds to charity 
and religion. The splendour and luxury in which he had 
lived at Rome he now totally renounced ; sleeping on 
boards, wearing coarse garments, abstaining from delicate 
food, fasting long and frequently, spending whole nights in 
prayer, and adopting the w r ord Humilitas as his motto. 

Having subjected himself to such severity of discipline, 
he set earnestly about the reformation of his clergy. His 
was the largest diocese in Italy, comprehending nearly 
nine hundred parishes, many of them in the wildest regions 
of the Alps. Yet he visited regularly every one of them, 
preaching and lecturing with indefatigable zeal, and exer- 
cising everywhere the watchfulness of a father. He insti- 
tuted a permanent council, which held monthly sessions, 
for the purpose of inspecting and regulating the conduct of 
the ecclesiastical orders. In this manner he corrected 
many abuses, removed many causes of scandal, abolished 
many superstitious usages, and did much for the production 
of a better state of morals. Protestants, when they glorify 
Mrs. Wesley and Robert Raikes as the inventors of the 
Sunday-school, are not aware that it was established by 
Archbishop Borromeo in Milan nearly three hundred years 
ago. He erected several colleges also, two or three 
hospitals, and many public fountains ; and bestowed annually 
more than thirty -seven thousand dollars upon the poor, be- 
sides two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the course of 
his life upon various cases of special need. His humility, 
his self-command, his forgiveness of injuries, the profusion 
of his alms, and the sanctity of his life, gave him great 
influence with the people, and contributed largely to his 
success. In some of his reformatory enterprises he was 
opposed, of course, by the covetous, the ambitious, or the 
profligate among the priesthood ; and his biographers say 
that the higher classes were offended at the faithful plain- 
ness of his preaching, but the ' common people heard him 
gladly.' Once while engaged in prayer, he was shot at by 



MILAN AND ITS MARVELS. 65 

a hired assassin ; but he continued his devotions without 
pausing, and when he arose the ball fell from his sleeve. 
During* a pestilence, which for six months ravaged the city, 
nothing could restrain him from visiting the sick and the 
dying ; and when entreated to consult his own safety, his 
reply was, that a bishop who would not face any danger at 
the call of duty was unworthy of his office. He was continu- 
ally found in the most infected places, administering con- 
solation and relief to the perishing people ; and the last 
small remnants of his Roman splendour, even his bed, he 
parted with for their benefit. It is not strange that such 
a bishop should fall a victim to his zeal ; and during a la- 
borious visit to some of his mountain parishes, in 1584, 
this man of God contracted a fever, of which he died. 

That San Carlo Borromeo was warmly attached to the 
Romish Church perhaps there is little room for doubt ; but 
to those who will read his writings, and trace the current 
of his life, there can be just as little, it seems to me, that 
he built upon the true foundation, which is Christ Jesus. 
His letters and sermons breathe a charming spirit of evan- 
gelical humility and devotion ; and all his energies of soul 
and body seem to have been engaged in works of piety and 
love. He was the Fenelon of Italy : with a more thorough 
knowledge of the word of God, and a candid perusal of his 
great contemporaries, the reformers of Germany and Swit- 
zerland, he might have been its Luther or its Zuingle. 



( 66 ) 



CHAPTER VIII. 

TO THE ETERNAL CITY. 

Beautiful Country — Another Peep into the Night gowns — Novara 
— Yiew of the Alps — Battle-fields — Alessandria. — Crossing the 
Apennines — Genoa — English Chapel — Seeing the City — 
Christopher Columbus — The Cathedral — A Eelic— Leghorn 
— Monte Nero — Italian Names — Civita Vecchia — Gasperoni 
and the Pope — Tete-a-tete with a Priest — ' A Friend in Need ' 
— The Diligence — Kome. 

The morning on which we left Milan was as fine as a 
January morning- in Northern Italy could possibly be. The 
air was keen and bracing, and there was a slight sprinkling 
of snow upon the ground ; but the sun shone gloriously 
over the landscape, and the vineyards glittered like groves 
of diamonds. When far beyond the gates of the city we 
turned to take a farewell look at the JDuomo, whose spires 
and statues, seen over the tops of the intervenient buildings, 
seemed a mass of inverted icicles. For many miles the 
country is planted with silk-mulberry trees, interlaced and 
festooned with vines ; and ever and anon a beautiful cot- 
tage is seen peeping through them ; and here and there a 
church-dome, with its accompanying campanile, towering 
over them, or a cluster of tall cypresses, marking the site of 
some pleasant villa. Dionysius of Halicarnassus informs us 
that these lands in ancient times produced three crops a 
year ; that their wines and oils were unsurpassed through- 
out the world ; that the fields abounded with cattle, and the 
forests with all sorts of game ; that the neighbouring moun- 
tains were clothed with fine timber, and contained vast- 
quarries of the choicest marbles ; while the navigable 
rivers, in every direction, afforded constant and easy com- 
munication from city to city. Whoever travels through 
Lombardy, even in winter, will not find it difficult to credit 
the most glowing accounts of its former affluence and fer- 
tility. Italy needs nothing but good government and true 
religion, with the intellectual and moral improvement 



TO THE ETERNAL CTTY. 67 

thence resulting, to render it the finest country in the 
world. At present it is Paradise under the curse. 

Three hours by diligence, and we came to the Naviglio 
Grande, or Great Canal — worthy of its name — flowing 
with a pure and rapid current, and, with one exception, the 
oldest work of the kind in Europe. Another mile brought 
us to the Ticino, which we crossed upon a well-built gra- 
nite bridge of eleven equal arches, that cost nearly 130,000/. 
It was upon the banks of this river, and not far below this 
bridge, that the Romans met Hannibal on his descent into 
Italy, and fought their first great battle with the invader ; 
and it is still hostile territory to all who come over the 
Alps, however peacefully inclined ; and the brigands of the 
Austrian Dog ana, robbed us of our passports, and then sent 
them after us to San Martino, the Sardinian Dogana, 
where, as they were indispensable to our progress, we were 
fain to ransom them at about fifty cents apiece. But here 
were other hostilities ; the Piedmontese banditti placed lad- 
ders against the diligence, brought down all our baggage, 
carried it into a large room, and proceeded to investigate 
the contents. Well knowing that resistance and expostu- 
lation alike were vain, I delivered up my keys, and while 
the baggage was being examined I stood perfectly calm, 
with my hands in my pockets, enjoying a delightful view of 
the distant Alps. Finding nothing worth having in our 
trunks, they locked them up again, replaced them on the 
top of the diligence, and very coolly demanded c buona 
manoj which I, not appreciating the favour they had done 
us, coolly declined giving them. 

Seven miles to No vara, a brisk commercial town of six- 
teen thousand inhabitants, where, not very reluctantly, we 
bade adieu to the diligence, and devoted two pleasant hours 
to the gratification of our spectacles. Nothing could be 
finer than the view of Monte Rosa, thirty or forty miles 
distant, though it seemed not more than six or eight, 
tinged with the glory of the setting sun. To the right 
rose the Wetterhorn, the Schreckhorn and the Jungfrau, 
with the double peak of Saint Gothard, and a hundred pin- 
nacles of the Bernese Oberland ; while to the left stood 
the Great Saint Bernard, and farther south the giant dome 
of Mont Blanc, still beyond which Mont Cenis guarded 



68 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

the passage from Piedmont into France. As the sun de- 
scended, the intense brilliancy of their snowy summits 
changed to a glowing purple, which soon deepened into 
violet. The western sky was of a pale orange hue, and 
the eastern of a dark rose colour, which blended in the 
blue of the zenith, darkening as the day declined. 

Once more on the Strada Ferrata. A shrill whistle, 
and we are away, skirting the battle-field, where, on the 
twenty-ninth of March, 1S49, after a long and bloody con- 
test, the Piedmontese were defeated by the Austrians. 
Then over thePo, and past the field of Marengo, where, on 
the fourteenth of June, 1800, Napoleon achieved so memo- 
rable a victory over the Austrians. And here is Alessan- 
dria, a city of forty thousand souls, the most remarkable 
monument of the Great Lombard League of 1167, when 
eighteen cities confederated for mutual protection against 
imperial tyranny, and built this city for a memorial and a 
defence. It was finished within a year from its foundation, 
and the inhabitants of the surrounding villages flocked 
hither for residence, and in a very short time formed a 
prosperous and powerful community ; so that seven years 
afterwards, when Frederick I. laid siege to the place, he 
was speedily driven in disgrace from its walls, and glad to 
capitulate with a foe that he had contemned. There is 
nothing here to be seen, except an immense citadel of very 
massive construction, which night and steam conspire to 
prevent our seeing. 

Forward to Novi, of silken fame. Now snowy peaks 
begin to rise around us. We are rushing up the Apen- 
nines. At the summit we run through a tunnel nearly two 
miles long, and afterwards descend the narrow valley of the 
Polcevera, winding about in every direction, among rocky 
steeps and over dark ravines, through deep excavations, 
and on lofty embankments and bridges — romantic enough, 
no doubt, by day, but sublime amid the starry gloom of 
the night. Asleep, and dreaming deliciously. ' Genova, 
Signore !' Sure enough, here is the station. As soon as 
the officials have inspected the baggage, we hasten to the 
hotel Croce di Malta, where we consult ' tired nature's 
sweet restorer,' till the Sabbath sun looks over the Apen- 
nines, and gilds the floating forest in the harbour. 



TO THE ETERNAL CITY. 69 

After breakfast we went out in quest of public worship ; 
and, after a long 1 walk and frequent inquiry, found the 
English Chapel — an upper room, about forty feet by fifty. 
The service of the English Church was read in a tone of 
disgusting affectation ; after which we had a very good 
sermon, most unworthily delivered. During the perform- 
ance, the Lord's Prayer was five times repeated. The 
prayers for the Queen were like a Chinese map, which 
represents the Celestial Empire as a vast continent, and 
the other parts of the world as so many little islands around 
it. In the c British Chapel ' at Trieste, a prayer of re- 
spectable length was offered for Joseph and Elizabeth of 
Austria, printed copies of which were found in every pew ; 
but here there was nothing more than the briefest inci- 
dental allusion to His Sardinian Majesty, while there were 
two set prayers for 6 Our Most Gracious Queen Victoria/ 
besides the several petitions in the Litany for ' Her Ma- 
jesty and all the royal family.' Such is British loyalty.* 

The hotel Croce di Malta is an ancient building, whose 
rooms — now modernized with windows, fire-places, and 
other conveniences unknown to its original occupants — 
were once the cells of the solitary Knights of Malta. At 
one end is a lofty square tower, with four fine century- 
plants at its four corners for pinnacles. Monday morning 
we ascended this elevation, where we had a good view of 
' Genoa la Superbaf with its crescent of mountains on the 
one hand, and its unrivalled bay and harbour on the other. 
The houses along the mountain-side, rising in terraces one 
above another, present a strange and beautiful appearance ; 
while the fortifications on the surrounding heights, with 
the shipping, the moles that enclose it, the sentinel light- 
houses at their extremities, and the broad Mediterranean 
beyond, render the scene one of the most varied and pleas- 
ing that can be imagined. After feasting the eye for an 
hour, we descended, and, map in hand, threaded the laby- 
rinthian streets, often not more than eight feet wide, be- 
tween palaces six and eight stories high, with church- 
domes and campaniles towering sublimely over the roofs. 
In the upper part of the city we found a beautiful open 

* Yet such loyalty is very scriptural, — Ed. 



70 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

space, laid out in serpentine walks, and shaded with va- 
rious evergreens, where the citizens promenade in crowds, 
and where we beheld the greater part of the city beneath 
us, with the harbour beyond, and the surrounding amphi- 
theatre of hills — forming a most magnificent panorama. 
The fortifications overlooking the town — some of them 
from a height of more than sixteen hundred feet, and gar- 
risoned by seven hundred soldiers — are said to be more ex- 
tensive than those of any other city in Europe, except Paris. 

Genoa abounds in remnants of Roman grandeur, and 
many of its finest residences and churches are built upon 
the foundations of ancient palaces and temples. The 
cathedral was erected in the eleventh century, but has 
received many modern improvements and additions, so that 
it presents an unsightly jumble of all styles of architecture. 
One of the friezes displays an inscription, stating that the 
city was founded by Janus the First, King of Italy, and 
grandson of Noah ; and taken by Janus the Second, Prince 
of Troy. Into the chapel of John the Baptist, where his 
relics are preserved, no female is ever admitted, save on 
one particular day of the year, because Herodias and her 
daughter occasioned the martyrdom of that saint. There is 
a vessel kept in the treasury, said to have been presented 
by the Queen of Sheba to Solomon, used by our Lord in 
the last supper with his disciples, and by Joseph of 
Arimathea to catch the blood which flowed from the 
Redeemer's side upon the cross. It was brought by the 
crusaders from the Holy Land, and the priests long 
pretended that it was made from a single emerald, and 
fetched it forth thrice a year from the sacristy for the 
veneration of good Catholics ; but all this turned out, as 
some had suspected, a mere imposition upon popular 
credulity ; for the invaluable catino, at the sight of which 
thousands had wept and wondered, but which it was impri- 
sonment or death for common hands to touch, was ascertained 
to be nothing but coloured glass. 

We saw the monument, a very handsome one, which they 
are erecting in honour of Christopher Columbus, but could 
not get a sight of his letters ; which latter are kept under 
a glass case, lest Americans should steal them ; and, like 
everything else in Itaty, shown for a price. 



TO THE ETERNAL CITY. 71 

That night we slept on the Mediterranean, and the next 
morning awoke in Leghorn. The steamer tarried here 
eight hours ; and we made good use the while of our 
spectacles ; and those public pickpockets, the police-officers, 
made good use of our purses ; and the lazzaroni, those 
never-failing tormentors, made good use of our patience ; 
and the venturini and ciceroni, those indispensable annoy- 
ances, made better use of both. Leghorn is not a very 
ancient city, and possesses comparatively few interesting 
works of art ; but some of its sacred edifices are well worth 
a visit, if not for the imposing architecture of their exterior, 
yet for their interior decorations and costly treasures. We 
entered only the Jewish synagogue and one of the Greek 
churches —the former containing a great variety of precious 
marbles ; the latter elaborately ornamented with painting 
and gilding, and enriched with some very rare and curious 
things. The sacristan showed us a magnificent copy of the 
Holy Bible, bound in massive plates of gold ; and a large 
number of sacerdotal robes, stiff with precious metals, and 
heavy with glittering gems — any one of which might 
purchase a comfortable wardrobe for all the beggars in 
town. We next procured a hack, and rode out to Monte 
Nero, an elevation overlooking the city and the sea, and 
crowned with a monastery and a church. Here is a picture 
of the Virgin, which, five hundred years ago, sailed hither, 
unaided and alone, from one of the Grecian islands ; and 
has ever since been to the Livornese, and very properly, 
an object of peculiar veneration. Having reconnoitred 
the buildings, we ascended still higher; and, from the 
top of the mountain, saw Leghorn, with all its pleasant 
environs, spread out like a map before us ; the valley of 
the Arno, stretching away towards Pisa and Florence, and 
awakening in the mind pictures of leaning towers, and 
vast galleries of the Belle Arti ; on the other hand, in 
full view, the islands of Elba and Corsica, recalling the 
strange history of him whose achievements changed the 
fate of Europe and the world; and while I gazed at 
those blue masses rising out of the Mediterranean, and 
mused on the wretched condition of Italy and the Papal 
nations, I could not help thinking that our own Kirwan 
was right — that a man with the genius of Napoleon and 



i 2 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

the virtues of Washington was indeed ' the great want of 
the world,' for which i the whole earth should cry to 
Heaven !' We returned to the steamer, and bade adieu to 
Leghorn. 

By the way, what a pity the sweet Italian name Livorno 
should ever have been barbarized into Leghorn ! And why 
do we say Rome instead of Roma, and Turin instead of 
Torino, and Milan instead of Milano, and Florence instead 
of Firenze, and Venice instead of Venezia, and Naples 
instead of Napoli ? The Italian is certainly as easy of 
pronunciation, and much more agreeable to the ear. 

The next morning at sunrise we dropped anchor in the 
harbour of Civita Vecchia, close under the wall of that 
dismal castle where, through the tender mercies of His 
Holiness, the wretched Gasperoni, during a long series of 
years, expiated his many murders. This is one of the 
purgatories — there are many others — of which the successor 
of St. Peter keeps the key, with unquestionable power to 
bind and loose. Was his dealing with the aforesaid sinner 
a specimen of his truth ? It is said the famous brigand 
was assured that, upon condition of his surrender, he should 
be pardoned. Trusting in the faith of the Vicar of God, 
and weary, perhaps, of a life of crime, he delivered himself 
up. The Vicar of God kept his word by incarcerating 
him for life in a dungeon. Lately he was removed to an 
inland prison, where, it is reported, he has since died. 
Gasperoni was not well pleased with his treatment, charging 
the pope with treachery, and declaring that about thirty 
or forty murders were all he ever committed. Alas ! many 
better men, for no other crime than their fidelity to God 
and his truth, have suffered much more in the hell of the 
inquisition — years of starvation, with periodical tortures, 
and death in its most dreadful forms. 

Having waited about two hours for the accommodation 
of the custom-house officers, we were allowed to go on 
shore in a little boat ; but being forestieri — foreigners — 
the boatman charged us twice as much as he charged the 
Italians who were with us, nor would he consent to land 
us for less. Of the forty or fifty commissionaires clamouring 
on the wharf for the privilege of serving us, we selected 
one of the most honest-looking, put our baggage into his 



TO THE ETERNAL CITY. 73 

hands, and followed him to the filthy Hotel oV Europe. 
Here we learned that the diligence would not leave for 
Borne till some time after noon, and the intervenient hours 
were therefore improved by a pedestrian exploring excursion 
through streets and lanes the least inviting imaginable. I 
certainly saw the best part of the town, for I saw it all ; 
but there was no place where I would consent to spend my 
days, for the whole area, and its entire contents, with the 
forty miles of campagna between it and ' the Eternal City.' 
And this is the ancient Centum Cellce ; this is the city of 
Trajan, and the favourite retreat of the Roman emperors. 
Pliny found it i a right pleasant place ;' but to-clay it wears 
as sorry an aspect as any that the sun shines upon. There 
is nothing here but mud, and rags, and fleas, and swine, 
and beggars, and pickpockets, and poor heavy-laden 
donkeys, and modern dwellings resting on worthier ruins, 
and castles, and prisons, and churches, all in keeping. * 

Returning to the hotel, I found Mrs. Cross holding a 
tete-a-tete with a long black robe, surmounted by a broad 
three-cornered hat, and enclosing a very polite specimen of 
the Romish priesthood. He was a missionary to India, 
where he had spent the last fifteen years ; had been in 
Italy three months on a visit, and had just come from Rome 
to re-embark for his distant field of labour. He had with 
him a native of Burmah, whom he said he had made a 
Christian. We found him very talkative and agreeable; 
and, to all appearances, an honest man. He told us that 
they had in India at least a thousand missionaries, fifteen 
bishops, a hundred colleges, and plenty of nuns* — some- 
thing for the Protestant Churches to think of ! He told 
us, also, that there are now in the Propaganda at Rome 
thirteen young Americans, preparing for the priesthood — 
something for American Christians to ponder ! In recom- 
mending to us certain lodgings in Rome, he said : ' They 
are good people : I was there myself : the padrone is a very 
good man : you can leave your purse on the table when 
you go out, and it will be there when you come back !' 
But when we inquired as to the expense, he replied : ' You 
can get the rooms for twenty-five scudi a month, perhaps 

* These statistics are inaccurate. — Ed. 



74 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

for twenty : they will ask you forty, because you are 
forestieri : they will get all they can from forestieri : you 
must be careful : you must make good bargain : you must 
not let them cheat you.' So this is a priest's idea of a good 
man : he will not steal your purse, but he will cheat you if 
he can. What is to be expected of a country where the 
religious teachers of the people have no higher standard of 
morality ? 

Soon after twelve the diligence was ready, and so were 
we. But 0, Pio Nono ! what a clamour for buono mano ! 
Our commissionaire, and three or four facchini, were exor- 
bitant, importunate, stentorious. It was not enough that 
we had paid two prices for landing, and three prices for 
breakfast, and a dollar for the vise of our passport ; nor 
was it enough that half the population had followed us 
begging through the town, and the prisoners stretched out 
their hands through the grated windows for carita as we 
passed ; but now there are not less than half a dozen 
distinct demands for unknown services, and innumerable 
hats thrust at us from every quarter, with imploring cries 
for qualcha cosa. Perplexed, bewildered, and almost 
desperate, I was just ready to throw all my change to the 
crowd, when I was startled by the question, in perfect 
English : 4 Can I be of any service to you, sir V* Looking 
up, I saw at my elbow a handsome little man, in a gray 
suit, with a delicate ratan in his hand. * I am the American 
Consul,' he added, ' and have come to see if I can render 
you any assistance : strangers are subject to great annoy- 
ance here ; these people would cheat you out of your eyes.' 
He took the money out of my hand, and soon dismissed the 
several claimants, and drove away the lazzaroni with his 
stick. Then he explained to me the Roman currency ; 
told me what I had to pay each postilion on the road ; 
gave me his card, with the name of a good hotel in Rome ; 
assisted Mrs. Cross into the coach, and bade us adieu in 
the politest manner. By no means an unpleasant incident 
in such a den of thieves ! 

Travelling by diligence in Italy is not the most delightful 
thing imaginable. The carriages are awkward and uncom- 
fortable, the progress intolerably slow, and the postilions 
insolent. In feeing these short-tailed officials, I adhered 



TO THE ETERNAL CITY. 75 

scrupulously to the instructions of the Consul ; but the 
short-tailed officials looked blank, then sour, then furious, 
and at last threw back the money indignantly. By such 
means these men often extort considerable sums from 
travellers, for most people would rather pay an extra paolo 
or two than have their necks broken ; but in this instance 
the effort was a failure, and doubtlessly the disappointed 
wight in the sequel regretted his menace. When the 
nuisance will be abated, it is impossible to say, because I 
know not when the railway to Rome will be finished. It 
took a long time for the government to determine upon 
the expediency of building it, and it seems likely to require 
a longer for the execution of the work. 

It was now growing dark, and I know nothing more of 
the campagna or the road, except that it was constantly up 
and down the hills, with innumerable curves and bridges, 
till about ten o'clock, as we were rattling down a descent 
close under a lofty wall, when all at once the dome of St. 
Peter's broke upon our sight, like a temple in the sky. In 
a few moments more we were within the wall, and making 
the curve of that majestic colonnade — which seemed a 
wilderness of pillars — encircling the piazza in front of 
that most magnificent of churches. And now, at the fine 
Hotel de Minerve, to which our polite little friend at Civita 
Vecehia recommended us with his compliments, let us rest 
till morning — our first night in 4 the Eternal City.' 



( 76 ) 



CHAPTER IX. 

FIRST DAYS IN ROME. 

Seeking Apartments — Settled, Unsettled, and Resettled- — The Sab- 
bath — Priestly Despotism — A Little Leaven — Street Spectacles 
— Blessings for Beasts — Beggars — Panorama-Lecture — The City 
of the Caesars — The City of the Popes. 

The next morning I went forth in search of Mr. r Johnson, 
an American artist, to whom I bore a letter of introduction. 
But how to find the needle in the haystack, that was the 
question. Perhaps some information may be obtained at 
the Piazza di Spagna. A guide offers his services, who 
knows Mr. Johnson very well, and will bring me straight 
to his studio. He leads the way : I follow. But at the 
first corner he stops to inquire for c Mosoo Zhorise, sculp- 
tore Americano .' ' No, no,' cried I ; ' Mr. Johnson, 
American painter!' The Italian knave evidently knew 
nothing of the man. I resolved, however, that he should 
fulfil his promise. After more than an hour's walk, with 
frequent inquiries for ' Mosoo Zhonse,' we find that gen- 
tleman in the Via Babuino. Having read the letter, he 
proposes to go with me at once in quest of appartamenti. 
His amiable little wife, who speaks Italian fluently, accom- 
panies us in the character of interpretess. Four full hours 
we travel through all sorts of streets, down all sorts of 
lanes, up all sorts of stairs, into all sorts of houses, among 
all sorts of people, not because there are no rooms for rent, 
but because so few are properly furnished, and fewer still 
to be had at a reasonable price. The grand holydays are 
at hand, and the fore stieri are flocking to Rome, and the 
most exorbitant demands are made for furnished apart- 
ments. After dinner, without our interpretess, Mr. Johnson 
and myself renew the quest. In the Via dei Condotti we 
are shown a very neat set of rooms, well furnished withal, 
and the rent only ' trenta scudi per mese.' The old 
woman seems anxious to close the bargain. A pair of 
bright eyes are watching us from a slightly opened door. 



FIRST DAYS IN ROME. 77 

We prefer that the ladies shall see the place, and promise 
to call again. 6 Una momento, Signori V exclaims the 
old woman ; and then she calls aloud, ' Angela !' and in 
bounds a beautiful girl of sixteen. A sweeter face I saw 
not in Italy. She was exceedingly well attired, and played 
some very pretty coquettish airs ; half hiding behind her 
mother, and doing her utmost endeavours to blush. And 
this fair Signorina, we were informed, would wait upon 
our table, and make our beds, and be wholly at our com- 
mand. We were evidently taken for two single gentlemen, 
and immediately corrected the error. But this unlucky 
piece of information ruined all our hopes. The Padronas 
price was forty scudi, and the rooms could not be let to a 
man with a wife ! We saw no more of the coy glances of 
the little maiden ; and a cloud came over her pretty fea- 
tures, as she closed the door behind us. 

The next clay Mr. Bartholomew, an American sculptor, 
kindly joined our party, and we found rooms with which 
we were well pleased on the Via Babitino. There was 
nobody at home but a young girl, who told us that the rent 
of the apartments was twenty scudi. But could they not 
be obtained for less? ~ Oh yes, for sixteen." Now the 
padrona entered, chid the girl for putting the rent so low, 
but finally concluded the bargain with us for the same 
price. I immediately settled my bill at the hotel, removed 
our baggage hither, bought a load of wood, and we began 
life in Eome. 

Sunday morning came, and your fores tieri were safe. A 
boy from a neighbouring trattoria brought us a i bifstecca,' 
(beef-steak,) a roll of bread, and a cup of caffe latta. This 
having enjoyed, with prayer and thanksgiving to our 
Heavenly Father, we accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Johnson 
to the Braschi Palace for worship. The large hall was 
much crowded, and it was pleasant to see so many Protes- 
tant sects represented in the assembly, all unmindful of the 
several peculiarities of creed and custom which divided 
them at home. Mr. Hall, a Congregational minister from 
New England, conducted the service ; and Mr. Bartholo- 
mew, assisted by several American artists, led the singing. 
The Braschi Palace is the residence of our Minister, Mr. 
Cass, and the general Sabbath rendezvous of American 



78 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

sojourners in Rome ; for under the stars and stripes they 
are permitted to worship God in their own manner, while 
no such -honour is conferred upon the flag of any other 
Protestant nation, though the English have a small chapel 
just without the Porta del Popolo, where nothing need be 
apprehended particularly offensive to His Holiness. We 
worshipped in the Braschi Palace every Lord's day during 
our residence in Rome, and once I had the privilege of 
preaching there, and several times assisted in the admini- 
stration of the Holy Supper. If not to Rome, yet to many 
a sojourner, this Bethel may prove a blessing. It was a 
blessing to us. 

Monday morning we were out again in search of rooms, 
and soon succeeded in securing very comfortable quarters 
on the Via Fratiina. The writings were drawn by Mr. 
B., and duly signed by the parties ; and now behold us, 
admiring reader, more independent than Augustus upon 
the Palatine, with an Authoress for a cook and a Doctor 
of Divinity for a butler, dwelling, as Paul once did a little 
way down the Corso, in our ' own hired house,' and ' re- 
ceiving all who came in.' Pardon me — not all ;• for one 
day came a priest, with incense and holy water, to bless 
and sanctify our apartments, whose pious offices we re- 
spectfully declined ; and another day came a hooded and 
sandalled monk, with his little alms-box, imploring carita 
for his order, to whom also we could not hearken ; and 
afterwards came troops of beggars — some for the Church, 
and some for themselves — some with oral supplications, 
and some with letters addressed to ' The Illustrious and 
Most Benevolent Signore Gieuseppe Croce and his Most 
Worthy Moglia Giovanna ' — none of whom could we find 
in our hearts to admit. Among those whom we did re- 
ceive, however— American artists, English tourists, and 
Roman citizens — we found some very agreeable society. 
There were Messrs. Bartholomew, Akers, and Mosier, 
sculptors ; Messrs. Johnson, Nichols, Williams, and Rother- 
mel, painters ; Mr. Page, also, with his three amiable 
daughters, and several other ladies of accomplishhd minds 
and manners ; the Rev. Mr. Forbes, an English clergy- 
man ; the Rev. Mr. Hall, our excellent chaplain ; Mr. 
Irving N. Hall, a far-travelled young gentleman from 



FIRST DAYS IN ROME. 79 

Connecticut ; Mr. Anthony S. Bey, an enlightened and 
most estimable bachelor from New York ; Professor San- 
guinetti, of the Roman University, a rather indifferent 
papist ; Abate Scotti, a priest who has more faith in the 
forestieri than in the mummeries of his own profession, and 
who frankly confessed that his only motive in taking orders 
was to secure a comfortable subsistence without labour. 

Apropos of the priesthood : one of these gentlemen told 
us of a young lady who would not go to confession, and 
was therefore sent to a dungeon. The holy father told her 
to expect during the night a visit from the devil. Ac- 
cordingly, about the middle of the night, she heard dismal 
groans, accompanied with the clank of chains. The door of 
her cell opened, and a frightful apparition stalked in, 
visible by the light of a blue flame, and diffusing a horrid 
smell of sulphur. The next morning the poor girl was a 
maniac, and soon afterwards a corpse ! 

Mr. Hall informed us that in several instances, Romans 
had come to him to express their dissent from the doctrines 
and their disgust with the practices, of the Papal Church. 
One, who belonged to a religious order, and had held an 
important official connexion with a convent, was extremely 
anxious to find means of escape from the country. 
Another, who, at the order of his father, was in course 
of training for the priesthood, to which he had the strong- 
est aversion, said that if he could once get out of Italy ? he 
would thwart the parental purpose by marrying as soon as 
possible. Nothing but a settled conviction of the falseness 
and corruption of the papal system had induced these de- 
sires and resolutions. Mr. Hall procured one of these per- 
sons a situation as courier to an English family travelling 
on the continent, and the other some unimportant commis- 
sion in Paris, which answered, at least, as a pretext on 
which he might get a passport ; but, in each case, there was 
the observance of the utmost caution, and the greatest fear 
of being suspected. 

Our location in the Via Fratina was very favourable 
for witnessing many interesting spectacles. Here fre- 
quently passed the cardinals, on their way to the Propa- 
ganda College, situated at the head of the street. Funeral 
processions, with hired mourners, and long trains of monks 



80 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

in brown robes and hoods, were constantly creeping by ; 
and often a company of priests, carrying the host, under a 
gay canopy, to the chamber of some sick person, burning 
wax candles, ringing little bells, and chanting Latin 
prayers, as they went slowly and solemnly along, while all 
who met them dropped upon their knees in the street. The 
most memorable procession to me, however, was one of 
horses, which I met one morning coming down from the 
church of San Antonio Abate, whither they had been to 
be blessed. This interesting ceremony takes place on the 
seventeenth of January, the Jesta of San Antonio, and dur- 
ing the following week. The horses of his Holiness, and 
those of the cardinals, princes, and nobles,, are brought to 
the front of the church in rich caparisons. Here stands a 
priest, who dips a brush in a bucket of holy water, and 
sprinkles it upon the animal, making the sign of the cross, 
and mumbling his benediction. That horse cannot balk, 
nor kick, nor stumble disastrously, nor run away inconti- 
nently, for twelve months to come ; and is, for the same 
period, proof against accident and disease. To the horses of 
the postmasters a blessing is especially important, because 
they carry the mail and are often in danger from the 
banditti. The peasants also seldom fail to seek this inva- 
luable benefit for their mules and donkeys. The cavalcade 
was evidently conscious of the grace which it had received ; 
while some of the horses moved slowly along, as if in 
solemn meditation, others arched their necks with a special 
sublimity, as if puffed up with spiritual pride, and others 
again danced for very joy, as if they had just come from a 
camp -meeting. 

I had heard much of Italian beggars and begging ; but 
the half, the hundredth even, had never been told me. 
Hans Christian Andersen's old Beppo still does a brisk 
business on the steps of the Trinita dei Monti, where he is 
licensed according to law to practise his impositions upon 
strangers. This miserable old cripple, it is reported, has 
many thousand scudi at interest, and yet he rides hither 
every morning, ties his donkey to a contiguous ilex, and 
hops to and fro like a frog till sunset, presenting his hat to 
every passenger with a * Bon giorno, signore ; Dio corn- 
pane.' I stood one day, and observed him for an hour, 



FIEST DAYS IN" ROME. 81 

during which more than thirty persons gave him money. He 
never thanks the donor ; and lately, when some one asked 
him the reason, he replied, ' It is nothing to me ; you give 
as a penance for your sins !' Near the foot of the stairs I 
often met with a lad of ten or twelve years, who begged for a 
blind father ; plying the hearts of the passers-by with so 
pleasant a voice and manner, that it was difficult to resist 
his plea. There were also two little models, a boy and a 
girl, much younger, generally to be found in the Piazza 
di S-pagna ; whose peasant attire was so picturesque, and 
whose address was altogether so bewitching, that I never 
failed to give them a baioccho apiece, though I saw them 
almost every day. I seldom walked out in any direction 
without encountering a youth with immense blue eyes, 
leading a blind brother, who followed from street to street, 
with the most annoying importunity ; or a cadaverous appa- 
rition, with a withered arm dangling uncovered from the 
shoulder, one of the most revolting objects I ever beheld. 
These are only a few specimens. Rome is a city of beg- 
gars, literally living upon the forestieri ; and without 
foreign patronage the city of the Pope would perish. This 
was her harvest season, but after Easter, the crowd of 
strangers scattered, the artists repaired to the mountains, 
the tourists journeyed their several ways, even the writer 
' took his hat and dispersed/ and Rome again was stag- 
nant. 

One beautiful day, map in hand, we ascended the tower 
of the Capitol, which stands betw r een the Rome that was 
and the Rome that is, the dead and the living Rome ; and 
there, with an atmosphere perfectly transparent, enjoyed 
the enchanting panorama — the modern city, the ancient 
ruins, the golden Tiber, the far-spreading Campagna, and 
its boundary wall of classic mountains, gleaming with gold 
and crystal. Let the reader imagine himself one of the 
party, while I, as lecturer, proceed to point out the more 
important objects in the picture, and instruct him a little 
in the topography of the Eternal City. We will not 

' Plod our way 
O'er steps of broken thrones and temples ;' 

it were too laborious ; but from this advantageous eleva- 

G 



82 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

tion, we will look down upon the wreck of human glory at 
our feet, where wall, and arch, and shaft, and capital, have 
lain crumbling for many centuries. Turn towards the 
south, and let us begin in due form : 

1 The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, 
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; 
An empty urn within her withered hands, 
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; 
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now : 
The very sepulchres lie tenantless 
Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow 
Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? 
Eise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress.' 

You see before you the city of the Caesars, < lone mother 
of dead empires !* The Capitoline, upon which you stand, 
is one of the seven hills. The six others lie around you in 
the form of a crescent. On your right, rising abruptly 
from the Tiber, is the Aventine, the loftiest of them all, 
crowned with three churches, and constituting a very pic- 
turesque object. Separated from this by a narrow valley 
stands the Palatine, where Romulus first reared his habita- 
tion, and the Caesars afterwards had their palace. The 
arches of the foundation are still there, surmounted by that 
beautiful English villa. In a broader valley to the east 
you see the Coliseum, where gladiators fought, and martyrs 
suffered ; and beyond it, the Celian, with the magnificent 
basilica of Saint John Lateran at its farther extremity. 
Turning your eyes still to the left, you find another and 
broader elevation, on which are the ruined Baths of Titus, 
the Temple of Minerva Medica, and the gorgeous modern 
Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. This is the Esquiline. 
That massive leaning tower, and other structures conti- 
guous, partly conceal the lower ground between it and the 
QuirinaL The highest point of the latter is called Monte 
Cavallo, and that large palace upon the top is the usual 
summer dwelling of the pope. The broad table-land be- 
yond is the Viminal, the last of the seven, partly occu- 
pied by the Baths of Dioclesian and the Church of San 
Lorenzo. North of this you see Monte Pincio, with its 
graceful cypresses, its laurels and magnolias ; and inter- 
spersed among these, with the aid of your lorgnette, you 
may perceive long lines of statuary. The grounds are 



FIRST DAYS IN ROME. 83 

tastefully laid out in curvilinear walks and carriage-roads, 
fringed with various flowers and tropical shrubbery, and 
artificial forests of evergreen, with here and there a lofty 
stone-pine, like a vast parasol, shading its emerald beauty. 
This is the favourite resort of the modern Romans ; and 
the distant music that you hear is from the band playing 
there in front of the fountain for the gratification of the 
multitude. Now draw a line directly through the city, 
from this point to the Aventine, on the opposite side, where 
we began ; and the area enclosed between it and the line 
of the ancient wall, which from our advantageous eminence 
maybe easily traced outside of all the objects and localities 
I have indicated to you, comprehends the whole space 
occupied by the Ante- Augustan Rome, nearly in the form 
of a half-moon. 

But turn again to the south-east. Close on your left once 
stood the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus ; on your right, 
the Arx Capitoli ; just beyond which is still to be seen 
the Tarpeian Rock — 

' The promontory, whence the traitor's leap 
Cured all ambition/ 

The large open space exactly before you, and almost at your 
feet — partly excavated, and everywhere strewn with ruins 
— was the Forum Romanum, the very heart of the ancient 
city. That semicircular wall, with the concave side toward 
us — partly covered by the present road — was the Rostrum, 
from which rolled the sonorous periods of Cicero. That 
massive arch, covered with bas-reliefs, at its left end, is 
the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus. The eight large 
Ionic columns at its other extremity are part of the portico 
of the temple of Saturn. The three fine Corinthian shafts 
of white marble between us and the rostrum belonged to 
the Temple of Yespasian. Just to the left of these you see 
a portion of the variegated marble pavement of the Temple 
of Concord ; between which and our present station, but so 
near as to be concealed by the building beneath us, is the 
place where the senate held its sessions. On the right of 
the columns, also invisible, are the remains of the portico 
of the Scola Zantha, where sat the notaries, amid the 
statues of the twelve Dei Consenti. Passing under the 



84 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

arch of fSeptimius Severus, you trace an ancient way, paved 
with large polygonal blocks of stone, deeply indented by 
chariot wheels : it is that by which the emperor ascended 
into the capitol. The building nearest the arch on the 
left is a modern church, beneath which are the Mamertine 
Prisons, where it is said both Saint Peter and Saint Paul 
were incarcerated. The single pillar nearly in front of the 
rostrum, and on the farther side of the present road, is that 
which Byron, in Childe Harold, calls 

' The nameless column, with the buried base j' 

but since the poet's day, its base has been uncovered, and 
an inscription upon it proves that it was erected in honour 
of Phocas, and once supported his statue. The large oblong 
excavation on the right of the forum reveals the broken 
columns, and some of the marble pavement, of the Basilica 
Julia. Beyond it are three richly-wrought Corinthian pil- 
lars, about which antiquarians have not yet ceased quarrel- 
ling, and I shall have nothing to say. The arch beyond 
them — the most beautiful of all the Roman arches — is that 
of Titus, reared in commemoration of the conquest of 
Jerusalem. It is covered with bas-reliefs ; one of which 
represents the victor in his triumphal chariot ; and another, 
the golden candlestick of the temple, borne as a spoil in the 
procession. The Via Sacra, the pavement of which you 
see passing under the arch, was the favourite walk of 
Horace. That huge and lofty ruin, some distance to the 
left of it, is part of the Basilica of Constantine — formerly 
the supposed remains of the Temple of Peace. The whole 
space — now covered with buildings — between this and the 
Forum of Trajan, yonder at the foot of the Quirinal, is 
thought to contain the most valuable remains of Imperial 
Rome ; but they lie many feet beneath the surface, and 
their disinterment would be attended with great expense. 

You have seen the city of the Caesars : will you look at 
the city of the Popes ? Saint Peter's, at least, though 
nearly two miles distant, merits a momentary glance. Step 
round to the other side of the tower. Ay, there it stands, 
beyond the Tiber, and the Castle of Saint Angelo — a 
mountain of masonry, yet finished like a jewel — the most 
magnificent basilica in the world. How everything 



FIRST DAYS IN ROME. 85 

dwindles into insignificance around it, and the vast six- 
storied range of the Vatican looks a child's play-house 
beneath its walls ! What a majestic dome — as large as 
the Pantheon which you see before you — and yet how per- 
fect in its proportions ! Farther to the right you behold 
three broad streets, perfectly straight, all meeting at the 
northern extremity of the city — the Babuino and the 
Hipetta, with the Cor so between them. The point at which 
they unite is the Porta del Popolo. The church close to it, 
on the right, covers the spot where tradition reports Nero 
to have been buried. In that church Martin Luther per- 
formed mass, it is said, for the last time. The Corso seems 
to be continued beyond the gate. That is the Via Fla- 
minia — the great post-road to Florence. 

The bridge by which it crosses the Tiber, a mile farther 
on, is the place where Constantine achieved his memorable 
victory over Maxentius. Follow that road some six or 
seven miles beyond the bridge, and you are among the 
ruins of Veil — the most powerful city of the old Etruscan 
confederacy ; which maintained no less than thirteen suc- 
cessful wars with Rome ; but in the fourteenth, after a ten 
years' siege, fell by the stratagem of a foe that could not 
conquer her by force. On the precipitous height between 
it and the Tiber perished the six hundred Fabii — the Roman 
Spartans ; ajid some old arches to be seen there are thought 
to be the substructions of their castle. An abrupt hill, 
with a large building upon it, overlooking the Tiber, five 
miles from Yeii, and the same distance from Rome, is the 
site of Fidene — destroyed by the Romans more than four 
centuries before the Christian era. Half-way between us 
and it, also overlooking the Tiber, is another hill on which 
once stood Antemne — c the city of many towers ' — one of 
the first subdued by Romulus. On the plain between 
these two cities were fought many sanguinary battles 
between the Etruscans and the Romans ; and it seems 
fit that Nero should have chosen to cut short his vicious 
and cruel life in that field of blood. How beautiful are 
the Sabine Mountains on our right ! how glorious their 
garniture of amethyst and gold ! and how quietly the little 
town of Tivoli reposes there in their protecting arms ! The 
lofty and picturesque range still farther to the south is 



8G THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

called the Alban Hills. What a soft and mellow light 
rests upon the villages along their lower slopes ! and how 
like piles of crystal the snow glistens upon their summits ! 
That broad table-land between the two highest points is the 
place where Hannibal encamped with his army. The road 
which you see straight before you is the Via Appia, 
excavated chiefly by the present pope, the first eleven miles 
of which is a street of tombs, now in utter ruin ; and the 
line of dilapidated arches, nearly parallel with it, once 
sustained the aqueduct which supplied Rome with water 
from the distant mountains. 



( 87 ) 



CHAPTER X. 

VETTURA TO TERRACINA. 

Troublesome Facchino — Across the Campagna — Albano — La Ric- 
cia — Velletri — Cisterna — Cora and Norma — A Eace for Baioc- 
chi — Pontine Marshes — Foro Appio — Forward again — Monte 
Circello — Terracina. 

Having witnessed the carnival, and many other things not 
worth recording, we made up a travelling party, and set 
forth for southern Italy. Our company consisted of four 
young Americans besides ourselves ; namely, Mr. Hall, 
Mr. Dey, Mr. Wood, and Miss Emma Page, the daughter 
of a distinguished artist at Rome. Fellow-travellers more 
agreeable were not to be desired, and a more delightful trip 
of four weeks were scarcely possible. Our vetturino too, a 
skilful and careful driver, was extremely kind and obliging, 
which contributed not a little to our enjoyment. We char- 
tered a vettura to Naples, which cost us about fourteen 
dollars apiece, including entertainment by the way. The 
distance is a hundred and forty-three miles, and the jour- 
ney occupied a little more than three days. The modern 
post-road follows the ancient Via Appia, with the exception 
of a few brief detours, through the entire route ; so that we 
were constantly travelling over classic ground, and passing 
some of the most interesting relics of antiquity. 

The only incident to mar our enjoyment occurred as we 
were leaving Rome, and that was but the shadow of a sum- 
mer cloud. While our driver was arranging on the top of 
the coach what little baggage we carried, one of those 
Italian nuisances that are constantly hanging about to force 
upon strangers assistance which they do not need, unsought 
and unsolicited, handed up a small trunk and a carpet bag. 
For this very important service he demanded a fee, and 
was paid two pauls — a liberal reward. As we drove off he 
mounted the box, and rode out as far as the gate San 
Giovanni, for which he demanded another fee. His com- 



88 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

pany being neither profitable nor desirable, we declined 
paying him anything more. Therefore he went into an 
Italian rage, called us all the ugly names at his command, 
warned us to look out for him on the campagna, declared 
that two of the company would never return to Rome, and 
told the young lady, who, by the way, is very beautiful 
both in features and complexion, that she was ' molto brutto 
di colore' After sundry ineffectual exhortations and re- 
monstrances, we referred the case to the police-officers at 
the gate, and went on our way rejoicing. 

The campagna from Rome to Albano, fourteen miles, is 
everywhere strewn with ruins. On our right, for ten miles 
at least, were the shattered tombs and monuments of the 
Via Appia ; and on our left, the broken arches of the 
aqueducts, the grandest of all the Roman antiquities. Then 
we began to ascend the Alban Mountains, between per- 
petual vineyards and olive-groves. As we walked behind 
the vettura for the relief of the horses, we turned repeatedly 
to look back over one of the finest landscapes that ever 
blessed the eyes of man — the far-spreading campagna, with 
Rome in the centre, and the mountains and the Mediter- 
ranean beyond. Near the gate of Albano, we passed the 
tomb of Pompey the Great, whose ashes were brought 
from Egypt, and deposited here by Cornelia. It is a half- 
ruined structure, of four stories, beautiful in its proportions, 
and originally encased with white marble. Pompey's Villa, 
and that of Clodius, were situated where Albano now stands ; 
also the Villa of Domitian, and his amphitheatre, the scene 
of the most revolting cruelties of the last and worst of the 
Caesars. Traces of these are still to be seen, and those of 
many other villas of the Roman patricians, with temples, 
and baths, and tombs. Albano is a finely-located town, 
with about six or seven thousand inhabitants— a favourite 
resort of the Roman nobility during the sickly summer 
season. The Via Appia passes straight through it, and is 
the principal street. Just beyond the town, on the right 
of the road, stands an old Etruscan sepulchre, formerly 
thought to be the tomb of the Horatii and Curatii, but 
lately ascertained to be that of Aruns, the son of Porsenna. 
Immediately after passing this, we crossed a deep ravine, 
upon a gigantic viaduct, connecting Albano and Lariccia, 



VETTUEA TO TEPJRACINA. 89 

This work is one of the most remarkable of its kind, a thou- 
sand feet long, two hundred feet high, and consisting of 
three tiers of arches, six in the lower tier, twelve in the 
central, and eighteen in the upper. The ravine below 
abounds in the most beautiful scenery, and the view to 
the west is one of absolute enchantment. Lariccia, a much 
smaller place than Albano, occupies the summit of the hill 
— the site of the citadel of Aricia, one of the confederate 
cities of Latium. The ancient walls are still traceable, and 
the ruins of a temple are shown, supposed to be that of 
Diana. Beyond this we crossed two other lofty viaducts, 
of truly admirable construction, the work of Pio Nono. 
It must be remembered that this is the way to Gaeta ; and 
travelling it on the top of a diligence in 1849 seems to 
have suggested to His Holiness the expediency of sundry 
very expensive improvements ; which have since been made, 
and may be found very comfortable in some future emer- 
gency. Our road here overlooked the crater of the Valla- 
riccia, four miles in circumference, beyond which we saw 
Monte Giove — the site of the ancient Corioli ; and Civita 
Lavinia — builb of large rectangular blocks from the ruins 
of Lanuvium, which once occupied the same ground. 

Here we passed a huge black cross by the wayside, indi- 
cating the spot where a few months before the banditti had 
attacked the diligence. The driver saw them coming over 
the brow of a hill, and put his horses to their utmost speed. 
Several guns were fired, and a ball passed through the car- 
riage, grazing an Englishman's ear. Another wounded one 
of the leaders, which, after running a mile farther, dropped 
dead. The postilions cut him loose before the robbers had 
time to overtake them ; and all hands reached Albano safe, 
but in a terrible fright. 

Our first night was spent at Velletri, a city of twelve 
thousand inhabitants, situated on the descent of Monte 
Artemisio, at an elevation of perhaps a thousand feet. A 
waiter at our hotel, doing his best in French, told us that it 
contained sixteen million people, and was forty miles above 
the level of the sea ! Here flourished the Volscian Velitre, 
one of the ancient enemies of Rome. To rid herself of a 
troublesome neighbour, Rome demolished the city, and took 
its inhabitants into her own bosom. This was the reputed 



90 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

birthplace of Augustus, and Suetonius states that in his day 
the house was still shown in which the emperor first opened 
his eyes upon his future empire. Here were born Pope 
Julius the Second, Cardinal Borgia the antiquary, and the 
learned prelate Latinus — one of the most eminent men of 
the thirteenth century, and said by his biographers to be 
the author of the beautiful hymn, ' Dies irce, dies ilia' 
There is nothing very imposing in the architecture of the 
city, and the streets are narrow and filthy. Some hard 
fighting was done here during the Lombard invasion, evi- 
dences of which are still visible in the crumbling walls and 
towers. The hills on the north were the scene of the 
eventful victory of Charles the Third of Naples over the 
Austrians in 1744. The women of Velletri are thought 
to be handsome, and their costume is remarkably graceful 
and picturesque. This whole region is famous for its 
fruits, and I know not what could be more beautiful than 
the vine3 r ards and olive-groves which clothe the surrounding 
hills. As we left the town, a little boy, who had con- 
ducted us the evening before to the albergo, but whom now 
we failed to recognize, ran some distance beside the vettura^ 
expectant of a buono mano; and when he saw that we 
were not going to give him anything, he began to weep 
bitterly ; whereupon every one of us threw him a piece of 
money, which made the little fellow dance for joy. 

From Velletri the road descends gradually for several 
miles, till it enters the oak forest of Cisterna. This was 
formerly a notorious haunt of brigands, affording fine faci- 
lities for concealment and escape to the neighbouring moun- 
tains. But the trees along the road have lately been cut 
down, and the way is well guarded by soldiers, posted at 
convenient distances. On emerging from the forest, we 
passed some massive ruins, apparently quite ancient ; per- 
haps the remains of Ulubrse, which was situated somewhere 
in this vicinity. Cisterna stands upon the last elevation, 
overlooking the Pontine Marshes — the supposed site of 
Tres Tabernse — ' The Three Taverns ' — where Saint Paul 
met his brethren as he ' went toward Rome.' The view 
from this eminence I shall never forget. The majestic 
mountains on the left, the remoter Mediterranean on the 
right, the vast expanse of the Pontine Marshes before us, 



VETTURA TO TERRACINA. 91 

and the isolated Monte Circello beyond, more than thirty 
miles distant, rising in solitary grandeur over the margin 
of the sea, with all their interesting associations, classical 
and scriptural, formed an imposing picture, which daguerre- 
otyped its impression imperishably upon my soul. 

Descending from Cisterna, on a pyramidal hill at the foot 
of the mountains, we saw the modern Cora, occupying the 
site of the ancient Cora — one of the oldest cities in Italy, 
and one of the thirty which united to form the Latin 
League, five hundred years before Christ. There are many 
ancient vestiges remaining ; and a bridge which has stood 
entire for more than two thousand years is deemed one of 
the most remarkable monuments of its kind. A little far- 
ther on, and near our road, was the village of Norma, so 
called from the ancient Norbo, which stood upon a loftier 
ridge of rock beyond it. This was one of the first colonies 
of the Romans, established as a barrier to the warlike in- 
habitants of the mountains. During the civil wars it fell 
into the hands of Lepidus, the general of Sylla ; when the 
garrison, rather than surrender, put the inhabitants to the 
sword, set fire to the city, and then destroyed themselves. 
The remains of walls, gates, towers, and temples, consisting 
of immense blocks, are still identified ; with numerous 
tombs, reservoirs, and subterranean aqueducts hewn in the 
solid rock. 

At the margin of the Pontine Marshes, we passed over 
the site of the ancient Trepontium, the Tripos of the mid- 
dle ages, now occupied by a solitary post-house, called Torre 
Tre Ponti. Half a mile beyond this, we crossed the Ninfa, 
by a 'Roman bridge, bearing on each parapet inscriptions 
recording its repair by Trajan. Here begins the Grand 
Canal of Augustus, which runs in a perfectly straight line 
through the whole length of the Marshes from north to 
south ; and the road which still follows the course of the 
Appian Way, lies along its eastern bank, lined on each 
side by a triple row of stately elms. For thirty miles there 
is no variation in the scenery, and the dreary desolation of 
the plain defies all description. It is a vast waste, bounded 
on the west by the sea, and on the east by the Yolscian 
Mountains, whose rugged steeps display not a particle of 
verdure. The whole extent seems to be untilled and un- 



92 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

tenanted, except by flocks of wild fowl and grazing herds 
of buffalo ; and the thin and sallow denizens of the dubious 
straw huts along the margin, and the occupants of the post- 
stations, which occur at regular distances upon the road, 
betoken too evidently the deadly dominion of the malaria. 
How different the scene when Horace glided along this 
same canal on his journey to Erundusium, or when the 
weary-footed ' prisoner of Jesus Christ ' walked Homeward 
over this same Appian Way ! Once, according to Livy, 
the Volscian Plain was the chief source of supply to the 
luxurious Mistress of the World ; and according to Pliny, 
no less than twenty-three cities smiled along its border, or 
looked proudly down from the adjacent hills. 

The first attempt to drain this vast swamp is supposed to 
have been made by Appius Claudius, when he constructed 
the Appian Way. This, however, is uncertain ; and if he 
undertook the work, it was, probably, but imperfectly done. 
But we are assured that this object was effected, in part at 
least, a hundred and thirty years later, by the Consul 
Cornelius Cethegus. Julius Caesar again formed the de- 
sign of accomplishing the arduous task ; but we have no 
record of his carrying the purpose into effect. Augustus 
seems to have executed the plan, and to him is attributed 
the construction of the Grand Canal. Trajan and Nerva 
each reopened and cleared the old water-courses, and per- 
haps added others to those which before existed. The last 
work of this kind, before the downfall of the Roman Em- 
pire, was conducted by Cecilius Decius, under the reign of 
Theodoric the Goth. Boniface the Eighth, in the thir- 
teenth century, did something of the same sort ; and Martin 
the Fifth, and Sixtus the Fifth, both followed the example. 
But it was Pius the Sixth who completely restored the 
Canal of Augustus, and constructed the modern road. The 
latter is kept in fine condition by the present Pope, for 
there is no telling how soon he may want to travel it again ! 
It is beautifully macadamized; tut in many places the 
large polygonal stones of the old Appian pavement are 
still seen. 

About three miles beyond Torre Tre Ponti, we paused for 
refreshment at the Foro Appio — the ancient Appii Forum, 
where Horace embarked in the evening on the Grand 



VETTURA TO TERRACINA. 93 

Canal, and where a greater than Horace met his Christian 
friends as he went towards Rome. There is something to 
me very affecting in the record of this incident in the 
twenty-eighth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. Appii 
Forum is about forty-six miles from Rome. The apostle 
is on his way to that city to give account of himself to the 
emperor. Here is a little band of brethren, once pagans, 
but recently won to the love of Jesus. Among them, per- 
haps, are a few devout Jews. They have heard of his 
landing at Puteoli, and have come to cheer him on his 
way. With such affection from brethren whom he had 
never seen, no wonder ' he thanked God and took courage.' 
I stood upon the little balcony of the humble osteria that 
now marks the place — perhaps the very ground whereon 
the parties paused — and gazed along the way, till, in 
imagination, I saw that blessed prisoner approaching from 
the south, weary with his journey, a chain upon his left 
wrist, a staff in his right hand, and the soldiers riding on 
either side ; while from the opposite direction came a score 
of Christian converts to welcome and comfort the noblest 
man that ever wore a chain. I saw them quickening their 
pace to meet him, heard the tender greeting, witnessed the 
warm embrace, and the tears of love and joy that rolled 
down every cheek ; while the stern soldiers looked on in 
amazement, and the centurion exclaimed, ' See how these 
Christians love one another!' I beheld them journeying 
on together till they reached Tres Tabernee, where they are 
met by another party of the brethren, and a similar scene 
is enacted. Then I descended into the road, and sauntered 
along the canal, and gathered the wild flowers that grew 
upon its margin, and wept for joy, to think that I was 
actually treading the ground consecrated by one of the 
most touching incidents in the history of original Chris- 
tianity. Afterwards we sat down to our luncheon, where, 
perhaps, St. Paul had eaten with his friends. 

Dear reader, did you ever think how much you owe to 
that journey of St. Paul ? He remained at Rome at 
least two full years, dwelling in his own hired house, and 
preaching the gospel freely to all who came to hear him. 
During this time many were converted to Christianity. 
Some of his converts were of ' Caesar's household.' One of 



94 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

them is said to have been a Welsh princess, and others were 
Britons, then sojourning in Rome. These carried Chris- 
tianity home with them ; and lo ! the tree whose fruitful 
branches now shelter and refresh the nations ! 

But hark ! it is the call of our vetturino : ' Avante, Sig- 
nore I Monte, monte, Signorina /' In three twinklings of 
an eye we are seated, and rattling away towards Terracina. 
And here is Sezza, occupying a conspicuous position upon 
a mountain — the side of the ancient Setia, the native town 
of Caius Valerius Flaccus, the author of the Argonauticon ; 
and Piperno, the ancient Privernum, the birthplace of Ca- 
millus, and famous for its long struggles with Rome ; and 
the Cistercian Monastery of Fossa JVuova, where Thomas 
Aquinas died, on his way to the Council of Lyons, in the 
thirteenth century ; and the place where, in the days of 
Horace, stood the Temple of Feronia, with its grove and 
fountain, nothing of which now remains but a spring, 
shaded by three stunted trees. Here we overtook a man 
riding upon a donkey, while a woman walked by his side, 
with a child in her arms, and a heavy burden on her back ; 
and when we asked him why he did not let her ride, or 
relieve her of part of her load, he replied, ' Oh, she is my 
wife !' To half a dozen little girls, who ran after the car- 
riage, we threw a number of small coins ; but one of them, 
failing to secure any in the scramble, pursued us with most 
imploring cries, in the name of ' Maria Santissima f and 
when she had run about three miles, and we feared she 
would kill herself, we threw her a mezzo paolo, and she 
returned to her companions molto contento. 

What a grand object was Monte Circello, lying there at 
our right, like a great sea-monster sunning himself upon 
the shore ! This is the ancient Promontorium Circeum, a 
perpendicular mass of limestone, several thousand feet high, 
five or six miles long, and almost surrounded by the sea, 
situated ten miles west of Terracina, at the southern ex- 
tremity of the Pontine Marshes. There are traces of 
masonry upon the summit, supposed to be the remains of a 
Temple of the Sun, perhaps really of an ancient citadel. 
There are other ruins upon the western and southern sides 
of the promontory, one or the other of which must have 
been the location of the city of Circeii : the scene of the 



VETTURA TO TERRACES' A. 95 

exile of Lepidus, a favourite resort of Cicero and Atticus, 
and afterwards of Tiberius and Domitian. Among the 
Roman epicures it was famous for its oysters ; and those 
who were fond of the sport came hither to hunt the wild 
boar. This animal still abounds in the Pontine Marshes, 
and I have once dined at a Roman trattoria upon its meat. 
Once, I say ; and the first time will be the last, so long* as 
I am able to obtain any other sort of food, except blood- 
puddings and eels. 

Terracina was our encampment for the second night. 
This is the frontier town of the papal dominion, and has 
about ^\e thousand inhabitants. It is very picturesquely 
situated, at the southern extremity of the Pontine Marshes, 
where the Volscian Mountains project into the sea. As 
we entered the city, the palm-trees along the hillside, with 
the gigantic cactus, and the yellow orange and lemon 
groves, told us that we were approaching a more genial 
clime. Our hotel was close under the cliff, at the very 
point of the promontory. Across the way, a detached 
mass of rock shot up several hundred feet like a tower. 
It is said to have been formerly inhabited by a hermit, and 
his cell is still seen about half-way up its side. But how 
he reached it without the wings of an eagle, it is difficult to 
imagine. "We ascended the mountain, twelve or fifteen 
hundred feet ; passing some remains of Pelasgic walls, and 
several ruined reservoirs, which we found tenanted by kids. 
Higher up, and almost inaccessible, are the broken arches 
of Theodoric's Palace, the lower story of which is almost 
entire. We reached it with great difficulty ; but the toil 
was well rewarded. The view from the top is one of en- 
chanting beauty ; including the Pontine Marshes, with the 
promontory of Monte Circello ; the Mediterranean, with 
Ischia, and the Ponzan Islands ; Lago di Fondi, sleeping 
calmly in the embrace of the mountains ; Gaeta, and many 
other towns along the coast ; and, last of all, Vesuvius, 
distinctly visible at the distance of eighty miles. As we 
descended, the sun went down over the distant sea, kindling 
the waters into flame, and shedding a gorgeous glory on 
the rocky summits around us. 



( 96 ) 



CHAPTER XL 

WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 

A Wild Story of the Alps — A Tender Story of Mount Anxur. 

I know not whether our inn was the one immortalized by 
Washington Irving in his ' Tales of a Traveller,' where he 
sat all night telling stories with his friends. It was suffi- 
cient for us that it was in the same Terracina, and that a 
portion of the same spirit fell upon our party. Having 
refreshed ourselves with a sumptuous repast, we gathered 
around the fire in our common sitting-room, and Mr. H. 
began as follows : 

' You must know, gentlemen and ladies, that I have been 
some time travelling in Europe, and am a much older man 
than I seem to be. Once upon a time — I will not say how 
long ago, for that would spoil the story—in company with 
a clever English tourist, I was on my way from Lintz to 
Wasserburg, and approaching the Bavarian frontier. The 
road was rough and hilly, and the evening twilight over- 
took us while we were yet many miles short of our desti- 
nation for the night. Our horses were jaded, and one of 
them had lost a shoe, which rendered our progress still 
more tardy and difficult. 

4 Reaching a small and ugly-looking inn upon the margin 
of an extensive mountain forest, our driver informed us that 
it was impracticable to proceed any farther that night, and 
that it would be unsafe to make the attempt. We remon- 
strated, reminded him of his engagement, urged the import- 
ance to us of its fulfilment, and tried by various arguments 
to stimulate his courage. Finding all unavailing, we pro- 
posed, by way of compromise, to stop an hour and a half, 
that he might feed his horses, and replace the lost shoe, and 
then go on by moonlight. To this, after much parleying, 
he reluctantly consented. 

' Entering the inn, we saw eight or ten rough-looking fel- 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 97 

lows sitting around a large fire, and seated ourselves among 
them. It was plain to me that my companion did not like 
their appearance ; and, for my own part, I was not alto- 
gether void of suspicion. The matter looked still worse 
when we ascertained that there was no female in the house. 
Resolving, however, to make the best of it, we called for 
supper, which was soon ready for us in an adjoining room. 
As soon as we had an opportunity, we expressed to each 
other our apprehensions. My friend proposed that we 
should call in the landlord, and have a friendly chat with 
him, with a view to ascertaining, if possible, something of 
his character. He immediately accepted our invitation, 
and sat down to drink wine with us ; while we scrutinized 
his features, weighed every word he uttered, and carefully 
noted every tone and gesture. We were soon satisfied ; 
we could not possibly be mistaken : his physiognomy, his 
conversation, his manner, proclaimed him one of the worst 
of his kind. 

' We asked him what meant the shooting we had heard as 
we approached his house. Perhaps, he said, some of the 
boys were hunting ; or it may have been some of his men 
trying their hands at a mark ; one would very often hear 
shooting in the forest ; occasionally he did something at it 
himself; and he thought he might have occasion to practice 
a little to-night. His manner, more than his words, during 
these remarks, convinced us that we had not judged him 
too severely. He endeavoured to persuade us to remain 
till morning ; but we told him we must, if possible, reach 
Wasserburg that night. When we arose to depart he said : 
" Well, gentlemen, if you will go, I wish you a pleasant 
journey, though I think I shall see you again before you 
reach Wasserburg. 5 ' These words grated on our ears rather 
harshly ; but we smiled as naturally as we could, said we 
should be happy to have his company, and with affected 
cordiality bade him good evening. 

' Less than half an English mile from his door we met a 
carriage containing six men, who appeared to be officers of 
the Austrian army. Learnirig, upon inquiry, that they in- 
tended to spend the night at the inn, we resolved on re- 
maining with them. We informed them at once of our 
suspicions, and it was soon agreed what policy we had 

H 



98 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

better pursue. So turning about, we drove back, and told 
the landlord, that having unexpectedly met with this party 
of friends, we had concluded to stay till morning, and have 
a jolly time together. At our request he gave us a large 
upper room. We called for much wine, drank but little, 
yet made a great deal of noise. We told stories, laughed 
loudly, sang vociferously, and counterfeited drunkenness to 
perfection. Some time after midnight we gradually grew 
quiet, extinguished our candles, and lay down, but not to 
sleep, though some of the party snored. Through a crack 
in the floor we could see that the lights were s'ill burning 
below, that the men we first met around the fire were all 
there, and that others had been added to the number, 
though there was not a sound to be heard. Soon there 
were cautious footsteps on the stairway, and soft whisper- 
ings at the door. Then all was quiet again. An hour 
elapsed, and the footsteps and whisperings were repeated ; 
and lights were seen moving to and fro in the passage. 
Now one of our party, as if awakened from sleep, began 
talking to his bedfellow ; whereupon the sounds without 
ceased, the lights were suddenly darkened, and we re- 
mained undisturbed till morning. 

4 Before we parted, our new friends informed us that 
they w r ere not what we had supposed, but police-officers; 
that several robberies and murders had lately taken place 
in the forest ; that this inn had been suspected as the head- 
quarters of a desperate gang; and that they were now here 
for the purpose of ascertaining, if possible, by observation, 
the true character of the landlord and his house. They 
furthermore requested us, on our arrival at Wasserburg, 
to £0 immediately to the police-office, relate all that we 
had witnessed, and request that more < fficers should be 
sent to their assistance. My friend gave them his address, 
and obtained the promise of a letter in case anything 
important should transpire. About six weeks afterwards 
a letter reached him in Paris, informing him that a secret 
watch had been set upon that inn, that a very large gang 
of robbers and murderers had been arrested, that the master 
/>f the house himself proved to be the captain of the band, 
and was executed with eleven others, while several more 
were awaiting their trial in prison. 



"WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 99 

' Ladies and gentlemen, my story is no fiction, but a sim- 
ple narrative of facts as they occurred.' 

Mr. H. having ended, Mrs. C, who occupied the next 
seat in the circle, took up her parable and said: 

' Theodoric the Goth had supplanted the unworthy em- 
peror of Rome, and all northern Italy had submitted to his 
sway ; but as he proceeded farther south he was destined 
to meet resistance from the haughty lords whose castles 
crowned the heights around Terracina. 

' At the point which we passed this afternoon, where the 
Volscian Mountains crowd down upon the sea, until only a 
narrow passage is left, a desperate battle took place ; and 
the hill-sides now glowing with pomegranate, and orange, 
and lemon, were then reddened by the blood of warriors. 
Bravely did the Italians defend the pass ; but the arms of 
Theodoric were triumphant. Happiness seldom comes 
unalloyed, and in the moment of victory the conqueror 
found himself deprived of a friend — a companion in arms, 
who had fought with him side by side from his youth. 
Kneeling, he received the last sigh of Rudolph, and pro- 
mised to become the father to his little girl, Elesif, now 
truly orphaned, as she had lost her mother at her birth. 

' The promise so solemnly made by Theodoric he deter- 
mined to fulfil, and by his kindness to the child to atone for 
any injustice that he might ever have done the father ; for 
who of us, alas ! is it that can see the heart of a friend 
grow chill in death, and say, " I have never planted in that 
heart a thorn ?" 

' The advantages of Terracina as a naval station had 
made it a place of importance ; and here upon the high 
mountain, overlooking the town, the Gothic lawgiver deter- 
mined to build him a palace resembling that of Nero, at 
Rome. A quarry was opened in the side of the mountain, 
and in the course of time a palace arose, whose present 
ruins attest its former magnificence. When Theodoric 
came to take possession of this mansion, there was in his 
court a young girl of some fifteen summers, whose curls of 
paly gold shaded a face of exquisite fairness. Her cheek 
was coloured with the softest rose-tint; and in the depths of 
her blue eye there was a spirit of meditation and pensive- 
ness. This was Elesif. She was not sorry to have come 



100 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

to Terracina, for her father lay buried near; and this was a 
comfort, though his tongue could no more bless her, nor 
his eye beam with affection upon her. Hours she spent in 
gathering wild flowers from the mountains to deck his grave ; 
then seating herself beside it, she pursued her work in 
silence, or in this beautiful solitude surrounded herself with 
pleasant memories of the departed, and wove them into 
dreams in the midst of the evening sunshine. 

' But the mornings of Elesif were more cheerfully em- 
ployed. As she stood upon the terrace of the castle, a 
smile stole over her face ; while she beheld upon one side 
the Pontine Marshes, almost without habitation, yet glitter- 
ing with fields of grain ; and at their southern extremity 
the promontory of Circe, seeming an inaccessible island, 
a fit abode for the ancient enchantress. Upon the other 
hand, far over the waves, were groups of islands, and in 
the remoter distance light wreaths of smoke floated from 
Vesuvius. 

' Then the young girl hastened down the mountain, 
clown through the olive-grove, crushing with her bounding 
step the odour from the wild thyme, and scarcely pausing to 
pluck a flower until she had reached a high and isolated 
mass of rock near the sea. This is the rock which we all 
admired so much this evening, as forming so remarkable a 
feature in the picturesque scene. Midway up was exca- 
vated a cell, reached only by a ladder, and inhabited by one 
weary of the world. He was renowned for his learning and 
reverenced for his piety. The deep lines that sorrow and 
disappointment had left upon his face were softened by a 
smile of resignation, as one has seen a rugged landscape 
made beautiful by the breath of spring. He had met 
Elesif in her rambles upon the mountains ; and being inter- 
ested in her, he became, more by accident than design, her 
teacher. Every day she w r ent to his cell, and listened, well 
pleased, to the instructions he gave, or to the wonderful 
legends he related. 

' The court of Theodoric left for Verona, but Elesif re- 
mained behind with the Lady Julia, who had care of her. 
Pleasantly did the years glide away. Her cheek grew 
warmer and her eye brighter beneath a southern sun. 

6 One day she had rambled far to gather flowers for her 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 101 

father's grave. Her lap was quite full, and she was about 
to return, when she espied a bunch of the most lovely 
" forget-me-nots " growing on the verge of a crag that over- 
hung the sea. She thought she might reach it, and clam- 
bered up after it, but found the task more difficult than she 
had supposed. At length, however, she gained a point 
upon which she knelt ; and reaching forward, grasped the 
flowers. Just then the treacherous soil gave way, and she 
was precipitated into the sea. She uttered a single wild 
shriek of alarm, and then gave herself up to death. With 
the 6t forget-me-nots n still clutched in her hand, she folded 
her arms upon her breast. Scenes of her former life floated 
over her brain, like summer-clouds driven by the wind. 
Then she felt herself seized by a strong arm- — and she knew 
no more. 

' Consciousness came with a feeling of confusion, as if 
she were awaking from chaos. All things swam before 
her, mingled in inextricable perplexity ; and among other 
things was a vision of large brown eyes, and a pale face 
shadowed by dark hair, bending over her. At the same 
time she heard a voice, as in a dream, uttering most fer- 
vently the words, " Thank God !" 

1 In a few moments more she had recollected herself ; and 
opening her eyes the second time, she saw again the same 
pale face, the same dark hair and eyes, but more distinctly. 
A young man, whom she had never seen before, knelt beside 
her, alternately charing her hands and wringing the water 
from her fair curls. 

6 She murmured thanks to him, and said feebly : " I 
think now I can walk home ;" but in making the attempt 
to rise, she fell back fainting ; and the young man, with- 
out further ado, took her in his arms, and bore her as far 
as the cell of the hermit. Here he met some of the re- 
tainers of the castle, to whom he resigned his charge. She 
was placed upon a litter, and borne to the presence of the 
surprised and terrified Lady Julia. For some weeks after 
this she was so much troubled with a cough that she was 
not permitted to leave the castle. During this time the 
hermit daily toiled up the steep ascent to learn news of her 
welfare, and to take her fresh flowers. On these occasions 
he was unaccompanied, but a figure might be seen walking 



102 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

with impatient steps along the strand, awaiting his return. 
No sooner did the old man appear coming down the moun- 
tain, than this figure was seen rapidly ascending the moun- 
tain to meet him. When they met, his first question 
always was : "How is she?" his second: " Did you give 
her the flowers ?" And then, as if to justify his interest, 
he would say : " Poor thing, she seems so lonely here !" 
He would then assist the hermit down the hill, and being 
seated upon the shore, where the waves chased each other 
to their feet, the young man would take from his bosom a 
book or manuscript, which they would con together. In 
these latter days, however, the student had grown absent. 
After reading a passage, he would often let the book fall 
beside him, and sit looking at the blue sea with half-closed 
eyes, his face assuming the expression of one lost in a 
delicious revery. The hermit usually sighed softly as he 
thus beheld him, and awaited in silence until he would 
resume his book. But one day he said to him : 

' " Of what do you dream, my son ?" 

i " Dream !" said the young man, starting from his revery, 
"Oh, nothing! that is, nothing of any moment. A mere 
idle train of thought, suggested, perhaps, by the book." 

' " You are not wont, my son, to indulge in idle thought," 
said the hermit; "your life has been one of study, that 
your name, made glorious by your ancestors, might not be 
dishonoured in you." 

1 " Yes," said the young man, musingly, "it has been a 
life of study ; but, after all, what can I accomplish ? The 
power of our family broken, our property confiscated, our 
name itself falling into oblivion, nothing remains to me but 
the old tower, in which I seem shut out from glory or hope, 
And whatever T may achieve, who is to be made the gladder 
by it? What heart would rejoice?" 

' " You may so use your knowledge," replied the hermit, 
" that many lives may be made gladder, and many hearts 
rejoice. The rose does not hoard her fragrance, but 
lavishes it with her life, upon the air; the bee, with patient 
skill, extracts the sweets destined for others; the stars 
shine unceasingly, but not for themselves — their trembling 
rays guide the mariner to his home ; and He who was him- 
self ' a man of sorrows/ brought joy to every heart." 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 103 

6 " Yes, Father, I know that, I know that," rejoined the 
young man, rather impatiently ; " but the human heart 
seeks sympathy ; it yearns for some other heart to rejoice 
in its success : and this longing has been implanted in us 
by God himself — is it not so ?" 

i " Yes, my child, yes," answered the hermit, with a soft 
sigh ; " but let us be careful that we ask not sympathy 
where it would be dangerous for it to be given." 

c The young man understood the allusion, and rejoined, 
with a sad smile : 

' " Fear not ; I ask nothing ; I hope nothing." 

1 After a few moments' silence the book was resumed, 
but it had lost its charm : 

* In its leaves that day they read no more.' 

6 The student arose and slowly wended his way to a soli- 
tary and half-ruined tower that stood upon a neighbouring 
mountain. As he walked he muttered to himself: "Fool, 
fool that I am ! Why have I permitted that bright creature 
to mingle with my dark dreams ? What can I ever be to 
her, or she to me ? No, I will think of her no more ! I 
will devote myself with fresh ardour to my studies. I may 
some day achieve a name that even she will deign to pause 
and listen when she hears it mentioned — there again ! she 
is ever the end of mj thought ! I must conquer myself." 
And with this he strode rapidly forward, as if he intended 
to get out of sight of himself. 

' That was a day of struggle, as the bird struggles with 
the tempest, beating the air with its wings without ever 
rising. Book after book was taken up, manuscript after 
manuscript ; but the sentences lost themselves in reveries, 
and a cloud of golden curls quite obscured the sense. 

' The next morning he started once more to the cell of 
the hermit with a fresh bouquet, saying to himself : " At 
least it can do no harm to sena her the flowers while she is 
sick ; she receives them as the gifts only of Father Paolo." 
But as he approached the cell he saw that bright form, 
which had become so inextricably intermingled with all 
his thoughts, coming down the mountain path. In the 
distance he watched her while she moved as if with in- 
visible wings. He was not sufficiently near to observe the 



104 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

expression of her face, but every motion had the joyous- 
ness of an uncaged bird. Once her hair became entangled 
in an olive-branch, and she stopped to disentangle it ; then 
she plucked a spray of pomegranate; and then again she 
moved gaily forward. The young man stood as in a trance, 
and she passed as a vision before him. He saw the hermit 
go to meet her, and then he turned to wander alone upon 
the mountain. 

c The hermit arranged Elesif a comfortable seat upon the 
shore, and there they sat and conversed rather than studied. 
Father Paolo expressed his gratitude for her preservation. 

' " I also," she rejoined, a am very thankful that I was 
saved ; for although I trust I shall not fear to die when it is 
God's will, yet one shrinks from a sudden and violent end. 
But I must know my earthly deliverer — can you tell me 
aught of him, Father ?" 

4 " He is a son," replied the hermit, " of one of those 
Italian nobles who made a stand against Theodoric when 
he came to Terracina. His father was wounded in battle, 
and borne off by his followers to his own castle. Of the 
wound, though severe, he might have recovered ; but his 
chagrin at the defeat of his countrymen was so great that 
it produced a fever of which he died. That, you know, 
was many years ago. Since then Cecilio has resided with 
a single domestic in that solitary tower which you see to 
the left of the palace, upon that high point above the spot 
where the Emperor Galba was born. There he resides, 
and has but little interest in anything save his studies." 

* "How kind it was in him to rescue me!" said Elesif; 
"how noble!" 

c The hermit did not answer, for he knew how dangerous 
this awakened interest might become. 

' Weeks passed away without Elesif having again seen 
Cecilio ; but as she stood one day at the portal of the palace, 
receiving a despatch sent her from Theodoric by the young 
knight Atillio, she descried him through the trees, and 
exclaimed, " Oh, that is he !" 

6 " Is who ?" said Atillio, who had learned before this to 
appreciate the charms of the maiden. 

' " The stranger," she answered, " who saved me when I 
fell into the sea." 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 105 

c " A very interesting personage, no doubt," said Atillio, 
with a slight sneer. 

' " At least his saving me was an interesting fact to 
myself/' answered Elesif. 

'" Yes, and to others," said the knight, with earnestness. 

' A few days after this, when Elesif visited the grave of 
her father, she found some of the flowers she had planted 
withering. Remembering a spring that burst from the 
mountain-side not far distant, she ran to it to procure water 
for the flowers. As she turned abruptly round a projection 
of rock which concealed the spring, she found herself stand- 
ing in the presence of her deliverer, who sat ^beside the 
gurgling water, deeply absorbed in a manuscript. He 
looked up as he heard her approach, and the faces of both 
were suffused with a glow of crimson. 

' She, however, instantly advanced, and holding out her 
hand to him, said: " I am most happy to have this oppor- 
tunity of thanking you for having saved my life." She 
would have said more, but, overcome by his earnest gaze, she 
paused, and her face was once more covered with blushes. 

1 He pressed his lip tremblingly upon her proffered hand, 
and said, " Speak no more of it, lady ; it was nothing." 

6 "Nothing for you perhaps," she rejoined, "but an act 
that can never be forgotten by me." After a pause, she 
added: "I come to get water for my flowers. I suppose 
this cup which I have made of leaves will hold sufficient." 

1 " Hold, lady," said Cecilio, " I think I can do better ;" 
and taking a cup from his pocket, he filled it with water ; 
"permit me," he continued, "to carry it for you." 

s Elesif was confused ; she knew not whether to refuse 
or to accede to his proposition. In the mean time, he 
walked beside her, and when they had reached the tomb, 
he was about to pour the water on the flowers, when she 
said hastily: 

' " No, no, that I must do myself!" 

c He relinquished the cup to her, and said : 

' " I can understand your feelings ; I, too, have lost a 
father, and I may say on the same mournful occasion." 

' " Then we are alike the children of misfortune," said 
Elesif; "the battle-field is dreadful! Yes," she resumed, 
after a pause, "Father Paolo had told me something of 



106 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

your history ; and that you sometimes study with him, 
though I never see you there." 

1 Cecilio did not reply. He spoke of other matters — 
of the beautiful country, the soft skies and balmy air of 
Italy. 

' " I suppose, however/' said he, " that you would be 
willing to exchange all these for your northern home 
again." 

1 " Oh no," she answered, " no ; I love my northern home 
because I was born there, but I scarcely know it. Here is 
my father's grave, and here would I have my home." 

6 There was something not unpleasant in these words to 
the young man's ear, 

8 They continued to talk and stroll along the shore, 
unmindful of the time, until the sun had sunk behind the 
horizon, and Elesif, surprised to see the moonbeams trem- 
bling on the water, said : 

' " I must hasten home ; the Lady Julia will be anxious." 

1 They parted, and she hurried to the palace, her heart 
filled with soft music, and enveloped in the rosy light that 
comes with the morning of love. 

' The next day, whether it was by accident I cannot tell, 
but their lessons at the hermit's clashed, for she had not 
finished hers before he arrived. 

' Cupid often approaches warily ; but once his rosy fetters 
about the limbs, he is the veriest tyrant. Every day 
Cecilio and Elesif met, at the cell of the hermit, or on the 
mountain, or by the spring, or by the shore. No situation 
could have been more favourable to love. Separated as 
each seemed from the world, their souls drew nearer to 
each other for sympathy. 

i The hermit saw their growing passion with uneasiness. 
In secret he remonstrated with Cecilio, and tried once more 
to arouse his interest in his studies; but all the ardent 
nature of the Italian had been stirred, and he answered : 

' " Father, I would not give one smile of hers for all the 
lore that was ever learned from books." 

6 " But, my son," said the hermit, " what will Theodoric, 
what will the stern Goth say when he comes?" 

' " I know not ; I care not ; he cannot prevent my loving 
her. and that is happiness." 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 107 

1 "But, my son, is there no happiness but your own to 
be consulted ? The affections of this young creature being 
entangled, what will be her fate if Theodoric separate 
you ?" 

' " Alas ! Father, I know not ; our best affections make us 
selfish. I thought only of myself, and I may bring sorrow 
to that innocent heart, for which I would gladly sacrifice 
my life. But perhaps she loves me not ; I will know ; and 
if her heart is still fetterless, I will leave it free as the 
young bird ; 1 will make no attempt to ensnare it. I will 
not darken her bright path by my presence ; I will once 
more bury myself among my books in my own lonely 
home." 

' The conversation ceased, for the hermit was troubled, 
and knew not what to say. 

' . . . The sun was sinking towards the west. The 
roselight of evening was tinging the wave and the wood, 
while Cecilio and Elesif wandered along the shore. A jut- 
ting crag shut out the view of the palace and of the her- 
mit's cell. Before them was the sea, and behind them the 
flowery sides of the mountains. It seemed a little world 
shut in, fit for innocent and peaceful hearts. 

' Cecilio felt his pulse beat quicker, as he said to Elesif: 
" When will Thf odoric with his court return ?" 

6 " In twenty days," she replied, " they are expected." 

i " And then your present dull life will be exchanged for 
one of gaiety and happiness." 

' " Happiness." said Elesif, " does not always go hand in 
hand with gaiety — 1 prefer quiet." 

6 " But," continued Cecilio, " you will then be sur- 
rounded by many admiring knights and noble gentlemen ; 
and then perhaps your quiet life, and he whose happiness 
it has been to share it, will alike be forgotten." 

' She looked up into his face with an earnest and half- 
reproachful glance. 

' " Do you suppose," she exclaimed, " that I could be so 
unworthy, so heartless as to forget him who saved my life ?" 

' " I claim no gratitude," he said, with impetuosity ; " I 
deserve none, as I knew not at the time whom 1 had saved. 
Nay, lady, if that is the only remembrancer of me, forget 
me altogether !" 



108 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

c Alternately the blood rushed to the brow of Elesif, and 
then left it pale as death ; the tears were in her eyes as she 
said, in a low and trembling voice : 

' " I shall not fororet vou." 

' " Elesif," he said, and he breathed the words in a fervent 
whisper, as he gently placed his arm around her, " do you 
love me?" 

' The heart of the young girl fluttered, the blood glowed 
in every part of her neck that was visible through her fall- 
ing curls, as she bent her head. A moment she was 
silent, then raising her face, the tear-drops glittering on 
her burning cheek, her eyes looking up trustingly to his, 
she answered earnestly : " As my own life." 

6 " God bless you, Elesif, bless you for those words!" 
said the young man, and lifting her curls as if with reve- 
rence, he pressed them to his lips. 

' No other word was spoken. They wandered homeward 
hand in hand, enjoying that one moment of happiness, 
which in itself 

' Is a life ere it closes, 
A sole drop of fragrance from thousands of roses.' 

4 Swift and bright-winged were the hours of the twenty 
days until Theodoric's arrival. The last evening had come, 
and all the palace was in preparation. Weary at length of 
the bustle, Elesif had stolen forth, and was sitting alone 
beside the spring that ran near her father's grave. Her 
hands, slightly clasped, had fallen upon her lap, and her eyes 
were fixed upon the great waves, as they rushed with their 
white manes to the shore, and she murmured to herself: 
" So do our hopes rush forward but to be broken and scat- 
tered." She was thinking of the morrow, and her heart had 
grown sad. She felt that the life of love and joy which she 
had led for months must now be interrupted ; that her free- 
dom, which had been almost unbounded during the absence 
of the court, must be curtailed ; that she could no longer 
hasten daily with joyous steps to meet her lover, or stroll- 
ing by his side exchange with him vows of tender and 
innocent love. Their life had been like the life in Eden, 
but already the gate seemed opening for their departure. 
In truth, the heart of Elesif was sad. Suddenly she was 



WASHINGTON IKVING OUTDONE. 109 

startled by feeling something' fall lightly upon her head — 
it was a wreath of " forget-me-nots." Looking up, she saw 
the dark, laughing eyes of her lover. He, too, knew that 
this was the last evening; but the human heart is way- 
ward, and often laughs at the control of circumstance, as if 
in anticipation of that time when it shall be beyond the 
reach of the changes of earth. 

6 " What," he said, " my lady-bird, have I found you at 
last ? I was beginning Jto fear that the preparations for 
Theodoric had detained you, and that I should be disap- 
pointed in meeting you. See, I have woven you a garland 
of forget-me-nots, to remind you of our first meeting, when 
I drew you like another Venus from the sea, and your hand 
still grasped the flowers for which you had perilled your 
life." By this time he had reached her side, and noticed 
the slight cloud of sorrow which his words had failed 
entirely to dissipate. Taking her hand, he said, " But you 
are sad, Elesif ; has anything disturbed you?" 

6 " Only the recollection that this is the last evening," 
she replied. 

' " Too true," he said ; "I can no more watch day after 
day for your footsteps, nor look for that smile which has 
been to me life — more, more than life, dear Elesif. All 
that riches, fame, and power are to other men, you have 
become to me. To live without you now were impossible. 
Alas ! what do I say ? What right have I to aspire to your 
hand ? It has been wrong and selfish in me to strive to en- 
gage your affections, and yet what human heart could resist 
the temptation ? And now Theodoric comes perhaps to 
tear you from me, to give you to another- " 

6 " Do not speak of it," she said ; " I can never be an- 
other's ; and whatever may be our future, you, Cecilio, will 
never doubt that my heart is true to you even unto death ?" 

6 " Never ! never !" he exclaimed ; and with mutual vows 
they parted. 

1 The next day Theodoric arrived, and was delighted to 
see the growing loveliness of his adopted daughter. He 
designed to bestow her hand upon Atillio, who, it will 
be remembered, has been mentioned in these memoirs 
before. 

' The meetings of Elesif and the young Italian had not 



110 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

been unobserved, and that evening the story of their love 
was whispered into the ear of the Goth. His brow slightly 
darkened, but he replied : " A passing fancy, which will soon 
be forgotten." 

' The next morning he sent for Elesif, and informed her 
of the brilliant fate to which he had destined her in uniting 
her with Atillio. She stood before him with downcast eyes, 
and face as pale as the marble statues that adorned the room. 
A shade of vexation passed across the face of Theodoric, as 
he exclaimed : 

' " What, girl ! hast thou no thanks for this care that I 
have taken of thy future, for the brilliant destiny that I 
have provided thee ? There are few maidens that would 
not be proud to wed Atillio." 

' u Doubtless," she answered, with trembling lips, (i it 
would be for many an enviable station, and any woman 
might be proud of the homage of his heart ; but — I can- 
not marry him." 

c " Thou canst not !" replied Theodoric, in a rage ; " we 
shall see ! Go to thy room, thou perverse girl, and dare not 
leave it until thou art in a better humour, and comest to tell 
me that thou repentest of thine obstinacy — go !" 

6 This was the first of a long series of trials to Elesif. 
In her chamber she wept, as the young heart weeps when it 
first finds itself in the embrace of sorrow. The thought of 
Cecilio became consecrated by tears and prayers. She did 
not care to mingle in the gaieties of the court ; she did not 
dare to take her accustomed strolls, or even to venture so far 
as the cell of the hermit. 

' In the mean time Cecilio wandered about the mountain 
constantly, in sight of the palace ; hoping vainly, from day 
to day, to catch a glimpse of her he loved. She came not. 
A feverish anxiety devoured him. He applied to the her- 
mit ; but he could tell him nothing of her. Sleep fled 
from his eyes. In the night-time he took his lute, and, 
going beneath her window, he poured forth his soul in 
strains of the saddest music. Elesif recognized the sounds. 
She stood trembling. She feared to open her window, lest 
she should be heard ; yet her heart could not permit him to 
leave without some token. She took a rose from a vase of 
flowers, and had quietly opened the window, when she heard 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. Ill 

the sound of voices as in strife — a struggle — the jarring, 
discordant sound of the lute, as if it had suddenly fallen to 
the ground, and then all was silent. Her heart stood still 
in terror. Falling upon her knees, she poured forth her 
soul in supplication for the safety of her lover ; then rising, 
she threw herself upon her couch, but not to sleep, for her 
heart was filled with the most cruel anxieties. 

* The next day she received orders from Theodoric to 
prepare for a high festival that was to be held that night in 
the palace. She dared not disobey. The evening came, 
and the rooms flashed with a thousand lamps. All was joy- 
ous, all but the heart of Elesif. As she appeared in simple 
white robes, with the blue forget-me-nots twined amidst her 
hair, and her cheek glowing with the fever-flush of anxiety, 
a murmur of admiration ran through the assemby. Atillio 
was ever by her side, heightening her distress by his atten- 
tions. 

4 Finding themselves at length amid the fragrant gardens 
of the palace, separated from the crowd, he spoke to her 
more tenderly than he had hitherto done : he told her of his 
love and of his hopes. 

6 " In mercy, speak not of it," she said, " my soul is 
already tortured beyond endurance." Then, seeing his look 
of surprise, she added " Pardon me ! you are noble and 
good ! too noble, too good, not to deserve the whole affec- 
tion of one whom you would wed. Should I consent to 
marry you, I should be doing you a gross injustice, for my 
heart has already been given beyond recall. It has been a 
fatal gift, I fear, and has already brought pain and mis- 
fortune to the possessor." The feelings of her heart would 
not be repressed. She told him artlessly and fearlessly the 
story of her love. She told him the events of the last 
night, and of her fears, not the less terrible because they 
were undefined. The generosity of the young man justi- 
fied her trust. "Lady," he said, "you shall never be 
persecuted upon my account. I will learn what tidings I 
can of your lover ; and, though my love must be hopeless, 
it will ever be my happiness to serve you." These words 
were sadly spoken, and Elesif wept afresh, as it appeared 
that she was destined to ^ive pain to every one around her. 

i From that evening Theodoric no longer confined her to 



112 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

her own room, nor spoke to her of Atillio. She was per- 
mitted to wander freely as hitherto ; but nowhere did she 
find any trace of her lover. The bloom fled from her cheek, 
and the light from her eye. Her only consolation was to 
visit the hermit and listen to his counsel. He could tell her 
nothing of her lover ; but he had himself known sorrow, 
and his sympathy lulled the poignancy of her grief. She 
came no more with the blithe, bounding step of former 
days, for her body seemed to partake of the weariness of 
her soul. 

' Even Theodoric noticed how she was fading, and his 
heart smote him as he thought of her father. In this 
melancholy way three months had^ passed, when Theodoric 
was alarmed by the news that his enemies were ravaging the 
more southern portions of his dominions. He determined 
to go forth and meet them ; but at the same time he wished 
to place his palace in a complete state of defence. It was 
unprovided with water sufficient to serve any great number 
of troops. Theodoric was sorely perplexed how to have it 
conveyed to that height. He offered a large reward to any 
one who would supply the want. Atillio had learned, after 
many inquiries, that Cecilio was held a fast prisoner in the 
dungeons of the castle ; he had learned also from Father 
Paolo that he was skilled in science, and it occurred to him 
that this might be an opportunity for his liberation. He men- 
tioned to Theodoric that a young Italian had inhabited the 
neighbouring tower, who, if he could be found, might assist 
them in the difficulty. Theodoric immediately ordered Ce- 
cilio to his presence, and offered him his liberty on condition 
that he would supply the palace with water. Cecilio imme- 
diately undertook it. Reservoirs, in the remains of which 
we saw the young kids this afternoon, were constructed, 
water was conveyed into the palace, and the young Italian 
was crowned with favours. 

' Where or how the lovers met, our chronicle does not 
say, but the light soon came back to the eye of Elesif, and 
her step was as buoyant as ever. Some days of anxiety she 
was yet destined to experience, for her lover went forth to 
battle ; but for this she was repaid when he returned vic- 
torious, and when Theodoric placed her hand in that of 
Cecilio, saying, " Pardon the pain I have given you ; your 



WASHINGTON IRVING OUTDONE. 113 

own heart was your best counsellor ; for in my dominions 
there is not a nobler heart nor a braver spirit than his whom 
you have chosen." 

* There was mirth and revelry at the palace — trains of 
noble lords and gay dames; wine, and fruits, and flowers 
decked the feast. The altar in the chapel was wreathed 
with roses, and Cecilio and Elesif stood before it, and 
received the blessing of the hermit. Many years of happi- 
ness remained to them. Under the direction of Cecilio the 
Pontine Marshes were drained, and the Appian Way re- 
paired — works which Theodoric thought worthy to com- 
memorate on tablets of stone.' 

But telling stories at Terracina is not getting on towards 
Naples ; and should I undertake to report all that were im- 
provised on this occasion, probably the reader would fall 
asleep over the record, as I did during the entertainment ; 
and one, at least, of the remaining improvisitori would 
suffer no small disparagement in comparison with the pre- 
ceding specimens. It was something past midnight when 
we 

' Wrapped the drapery of our couch 
About us, and lay down to pleasant dreams.' 



( 114 ) 



CHAPTER XII. 

JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 

Wayside Glimpses — Fondi— Itri — Cicero's Tomb and Formian Villa 
— Extensive Prospect — Gaeta — Water-nymphs — Valley of the 
Liris — Sant' Agata — Sessa — Capua — A versa — Naples — History 
— Population — Trade — Fortifications. 

Leaving this romantic town, the road for some distance 
is overhung by the mountain on the left, and washed by the 
Mediterranean on the right. In this narrow passage, the 
Romans encountered the Samnites, three hundred and fifteen 
years before Christ. In the second Punic War it was the 
stronghold of Fabius Maximus, who successfully disputed 
the pass with Hannibal. The cliffs are full of sepulchral 
excavations, and mouldering tombs and towers everywhere 
speak of departed glory. Then the road strikes inland, 
between the mountains and the Lago di Fondi, instead of 
following the sin uosities of the shore. Upon the mountains 
we saw the Convent of the Passionists, on the site of the 
villa where the Emperor Galba was born ; and in the plain 
across the lake once stood the ancient city of Amycjae, which, 
according to Pliny and Servius, was depopulated by swarms 
of serpents. Passing these, and the picturesque town of 
Monticello beyond, we ascended a beautiful valley, full of 
vineyards, and famous for its wines. As we drew near to 
Fondi, nine miles from Terracina, the groves of lemons and 
oranges constituted a very beautiful sight. The town itself 
is a more miserable place than an untravelled American can 
imagine, and from time immemorial has had the reputation 
of being a nest of banditti. It boasts a population of 
nearly six thousand souls, and a more beggarly and suspi- 
cious-looking set of inhabitants I am sure it would be diffi- 
cult to find. Anciently it bore a better character; for the 
family of Livia, the wife of Augustus, was originally of 
Fondi. Some of the polygonal wall is still seen at the gate 



JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 115 

by which we entered the city, and a portion of the Appian 
pavement remains in the principal street by which we passed 
through it. Here too is the old Dominican convent in 
which Thomas Aquinas taught theology five hundred years 
ago, an orange tree which he is said to have planted with 
his own hands, and a well which yet bears his name. There 
is a pretty story told of the beautiful Countess Gonzaga, who 
dwelt here in the sixteenth century, whom the pirate Bar- 
barossa attempted to seize and carry off as a present to the 
Turkish Sultan ; but the lady fled naked at midnight from 
the castle, and eluded her pursuer among the mountains ; 
whereupon Barbarossa, disappointed of his prize, sacked 
and destroyed the town ; and pity it is, I cannot help think- 
ing, that it was ever rebuilt ! 

In Fondi we halted an hour ; during which our horses 
were cruelly branded on the side, for what purpose I did 
not learn ; and two more were added to the number, so that 
we had six to draw us* up the mountain, through the dreary 
pass of Itri. This defile was formerly the much-dreaded 
haunt of banditti ; and even now, it is not altogether secure 
for the lonely traveller. Here, in the sixteenth century, 
Marco Sciarra had his head-quarters. This notorious 
brigand, learning that Tasso was to pass this way, sent to 
offer him a safe passage, and assure him of his protection. 
The wild and desolate scenery of the mountains on either 
hand, independent of the reputation of the place, is suffi- 
cient to justify the worst apprehensions of the traveller. 
Itri, seven miles from Fondi, is nearly as despicable in ap- 
pearance, and glories in a still more infamous history. 
This was the birthplace of the notorious brigand Fra 
Diavolo — so called from his constant elusion of his pursuers, 
while he was robbing and murdering ail who came in his 
way ; on account of which it was supposed that he was 
favoured with the special aid and friendship of his satanic 
majesty. Itri and Fondi have contributed more heroes to 
the lists of banditti than any other two towns in Italy, and 
each still quarrels with the other for the fame of pre- 
eminence in this production. As we passed through the 
place at a smart trot, a number of little boys ran along 
by the side of the vettura, singing a sort of chorus to a 
not unmelodious air, the twofold burden of which seemed 



116 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

to be a eulogy of Miss P.'s beauty and a petition for 
alms : 

* Signorina grazziosa, 
Date mi qualche cosa.' 

Descending from Itri, the road follows a narrow valley, 
the hills on either side of which are terraced, and covered 
with vineyards and olive-groves. A pleasant ride of six or 
seven miles brought us to the tomb of Cicero — a lofty 
round tower upon a square base, occupying, according to 
tradition, the very spot where the executioners overtook 
the orator, as he was escaping in a litter to the seashore, 
and cut off the noblest head that ever sat on Roman 
shoulders. We spent a couple of hours at the albergo just 
beyond, which is called by his name, and said to stand on 
the site of his beautiful Formian Villa. The grounds 
around the hotel are full of orange and lemon trees ; 
and, only think of it, classical reader, we feasted on fruit 
which grew in Cicero's garden ! Scattered here and there, 
we saw masses of reticulated masonry • — ■ probably the 
remains of Cicero's baths. This was the orator's favourite 
residence, the scene of his political conferences with 
Pcmpey, and the calm retreat where he enjoyed the society 
of Scipio and Lelius. It was near this that Horace lodged 
at the house of Murena ; and the whole coast, for a con- 
siderable distance in both directions, is lined with the 
remains of Roman villas. The view from the terrace of 
the albergo is one of great beauty, even independently of 
its classical associations. To the north is the dark-brown 
mass of bare and rugged mountains. To the east are smil- 
ing valleys, clothed with perpetual verdure, and dotted with 
towns and villages. Far to the south-east stands Vesuvius, 
with his crown of vapour, and the mountains that half 
encircle the bay of Naples. A little farther to the right 
is seen the blue outline of Ischia and Procida — -two vast 
volcanic heaps thrown up from the bed of the sea. Next 
comes the island of San Stefano, where the state criminals 
are incarcerated ; and near it, Ventotene — the ancient 
Pandataria, to which Augustus banished his dissolute 
daughter Julia, and where Agrippina and Octavia both 
perished in exile. Still nearer is Pontia — now called 
Ponza — the brilliant feat of whose capture by Sir Charles 



JOURXEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 117 

Napier won for him the title of the Count of Ponza ; where 
Nero, the son of Germanicus, died by his own hand ; and 
where many of the early Christians, under Tiberius and 
Caligula, suffered for their faith. Not far from this are 
seen Palmarola — the ancient Palmaria, and Zannone — the 
ancient Sinonia. And there, three or four miles to the 
west, completing" the circle, stand the town and castle of 
Gaeta, on a projecting hill, extending some distance into 
the sea, and connected by a low and narrow isthmus to the 
mainland. This is a place of great strength — the key- 
fortress to the Neapolitan kingdom. It survived the inva- 
sions of the Lombards and the Saracens, and maintained 
its liberty till the thirteenth century ; when, with the 
other free cities of Southern Italy, it was absorbed in the 
Norman conquest. In later times it has been strongly 
fortified, and again and again has withstood the shock of 
war. Hither fled the present Yicar of the Most High, 
when the Eoman dirk threatened his bastard divinity. 
Here lies sepulchred the Constable de Bourbon, who was 
killed in the capture of Rome in 1527. 

Mola di Gaeta is a smaller town on the opposite or 
eastern side of Cicero's Villa, lying along the sea-shore at 
the foot of the mountains. Our road passing directly 
through it, we walked forward, and awaited our vettura 
beyond. As we left the town, we crossed a rapid mountain 
stream, in which stood some fifteen or twenty women, 
with cart-loads of soiled linen, pounding and splashing as 
if for life, and chatting, and laughing, and singing, in the 
merriest mood imaginable. Here the modern post-road 
runs inland, up the broad valley of the Garigliano — the 
ancient river Liris — leaving the Via Appia, which follows 
the sea-shore to Pozzuli. At a little distance to the right 
we saw the village of Mondragone, on the site of Sinnessa 
— memorable in the journey of Horace, who there met 
Virgil and his other friends. We passed close by all that 
remains of Minturna — the mouldering amphitheatre, a few 
half-buried substructions, and a long line of aqueduct 
arches — many of them still entire — stretching across the 
plain ; and on a hill two miles to the left stood the town of 
Traotte, built from the ruins of the ancient city. We 
crossed the river on a fine suspension bridge, near where 



118 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Marius concealed himself among the rushes from the pur- 
suit of Sylla ; and near the scene of the memorable battle 
of December 27, 1503 ; in which Gonsalvo the Spaniard 
put the French army to flight, and made himself master of 
the kingdom. The road follows the sinuous course of the 
stream for several miles ; and then, quitting it, and climb- 
ing the lower slopes of the mountains, winds about in a 
curious manner, among beautiful wheat fields and olive 
plantations, till it reaches Sant' Agata, where we spent our 
third night. 

Arriving here early in the afternoon, we walked over 
the lofty viaduct to Sessa, the gate of which is less than a 
mile from our albergo, and took a view of the town. It 
stands on the site of the ancient Suessa Arunca ; and con- 
tains about eighteen thousand people — as miserable a herd, 
I believe, as can be found in any city on earth. Many 
ancient remains are found here — the ruins of a fine bridge 
and a large amphitheatre — vaulted reservoirs, and polygonal 
pavements ; and in the volcanic rock beneath are vast 
excavations, with painted chambers, similar to those of the 
old Etruscan cities. While looking about we were beset 
with crowds of beggars, whose clamour was so annoying 
that we cut short our excursion, and returned to the hotel. 
The mountains in this neighbourhood all indicate former 
volcanic action ; and the hills of Kocca Monfina, at a 
little distance, are full of extinct craters. A circle of 
detached elevations, which seems to have formed the outer 
edge of one of these, encloses an area nine miles in circum- 
ference ; and within this space are two cones, one of which 
is thirty-two hundred feet high. 

Early the next morning we were again en route for 
Naples, passing through that rich and beautiful region so 
much praised by the Latin poets for its Falernian wine, 
and about noon reaching the memorable Capua, where we 
paused for refreshment. The city stands in a curve of the 
Volturno, which nearly surrounds it, flowing with as rapid 
a current now as in the classic days of old. We entered 
by a gate in a formidable wall, enclosed by a double fosso, 
with drawbridges. In case of necessity, the fosso can be 
filled with water from the river ; and all external com- 
munication, except by ball and bombshell, effectually cut 



JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 119 

off. The city has about ten thousand inhabitants, and is 
one of the most important military stations in the kingdom. 
Ancient Capua is two miles nearer Naples, where its ruins 
are still to be seen, with its beautiful amphitheatre. In 
the year of our Lord 1501, this town was taken and sacked 
by Caesar Borgia, when five thousand of the inhabitants 
perished by the treacherous cruelty of the conqueror. 

From Capua to Naples is sixteen miles. The whole 
distance is one continuous vineyard, and produces the 
choicest Falernian. The vines are supported by trees, and 
grow to the height of forty or fifty feet. The fertility of 
this region is wonderful, and not exceeded by any part of 
Europe. The country is perfectly level, and the trees and 
vines, like a perpetual forest, shut in the view, so that 
nothing is seen except what is immediately on the road. 

About half-way between Capua and Naples is Aversa, 
containing eighteen thousand inhabitants ; but for the rea- 
son just mentioned we saw nothing of it, except the gate as 
we approached, and the street through which we passed, 
and which was very much like those of other Italian cities 
— narrow, dirty, full of priests anch donkeys, monks and 
soldiers, police-officers and pickpockets, noisy facchini and 
lousy lazzaroni. There is one thing here worth mentioning 
— a famous lunatic asylum, established by Murat, and 
affording convenience for five hundred patients. 

It was here, I think, that we saw an interesting work of 
art — a pictorial admonition for brigands, painted on the 
outside wall of a little chapel by the wayside, for the profit 
of all who pass. A gang of robbers, who had committed 
some great atrocities, having been taken, were executed 
upon this spot ; and here they are, in hell, the flames 
curling round them, and long- tailed devils tossing them 
about with pitchforks. 

Soon after leaving Aversa it was very evident that we 
were drawing near to Naples. The way was thronged 
with people of all descriptions, on foot, on horseback, on 
oxback, on assback, and in all sorts of vehicles. We 
frequently met a mule carrying three men ; or a donkey, 
not larger than a good-sized Newfoundland dog, bestridden 
by half a dozen boys ; or a rickety two-wheeled nondescript, 
drawn by a single horse, and containing from ten to fifteen 



120 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

persons — some sitting 1 , some standing, some hanging on 
behind, and others suspended by hands and feet from the 
axle-tree. It was quite surprising, after having travelled 
half a day through a region perfectly flat, to find ourselves 
suddenly on the brow of a hill, with the beautiful Napoli 
far beneath us. And there sat the imperial Vesuvius, like 
a Turkish sultan smoking his pipe, upon his vast carpet of 
green fields and vineyards, adorned with a hundred towns 
and villages, and walled in with mountains of amethyst and 
jasper, and the bay at his feet like a monarch's bowl at a 
feast. 

The road descends, by a deep cutting, through the sub- 
urban San Giovanniello, to the gate of the city. Here our 
passports were taken from us, and certificates furnished us 
instead ; and by the payment of a fee to the custom-house 
officials, our baggage was exempted from examination. 
This was the policy observed throughout the entire route ; 
and, indeed, if one has plenty of carlini, he can travel all 
over the kingdom and never unlock his trunks. As faith- 
ful servants of the government, is it not the duty of these 
officials to make as many piastres as possible out of the 
forestieri? Is not this the purpose for which they are 
posted at their several stations along the road ? At any 
rate, they invariably proposed, for a consideration, to pass 
our baggage unopened ; and their profit, of course, w r as our 
preference, since by this method we saved both time and 
temper. 

The first thing that strikes the stranger, on arriving in 
Naples from Rome, is the dissimilarity of the two cities. 
They say : i Naples for beauty, Rome for sanctity.' It 
may reasonably be questioned whether this is the true 
point of contrast ; or if the true, I doubt if it is the chief. 
Naples is certainly a very beautiful city, and the Strada 
Toledo is pronounced c the finest two-mile street in Europe ;' 
but the beauty of Naples consists mainly in its situation 
and environments, which cannot be surpassed without the 
gates of Paradise. Its climate also is milder than that of 
Rome, and tropical flowers and fruits are abundant, and 
the ladies sit uncovered in their balconies, and all sorts of 
artisans are plying their various handicrafts in the streets. 
The Eternal City looks as if it were just going into an 



JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 121 

eternal sleep, and the people are as indolent and stupid as 
the Pope ; but Naples is brisk with business, and its stir and 
hum constantly remind an American of New York or New 
Orleans, though the multitude perhaps are more intent on 
pleasure than profit. Its population is twice as large as 
that of Rome, many living entirely in the open air ; and 
large districts through which we passed seemed crowded 
almost to suffocation. 

Naples is the ancient Neapolis. It was originally a 
Greek city. Four hundred and twenty -seven years before 
Christ it confederated with the Samnites against the 
Romans. The latter soon triumphed, but the conquering 
eagle spread his protecting wings over the conquered. 
Under the fostering care of the Republic, the city rose 
rapidly in prosperity and importance. But her strong 
attachment to the Roman interest excited the resentment 
of Hannibal, who ravaged her territory with more than his 
usual ferocity. After this it enjoyed a long period of 
tranquillity, still retaining its original language, with most 
of its ancient laws. The unrivalled fertility of its soil, the 
incomparable beauty of its coast, and the balmy mildness 
of its winter climate, drew hither the luxurious Romans ; 
and poets and orators, consuls and emperors, adorned its 
romantic scenery with their villas. Virgil and Horace 
sang in its groves ; Pliny and Cicero sojourned upon its 
shores ; here * Lucullus dined with Lucullus,' and Augustus 
swept along with his magnificent array ; here Tiberius 
enacted the beast, and Nero and Caligula played the mad- 
man and the fiend. 

During the reign of Titus, in the year seventy-nine of the 
Christian era, occurred the first serious interruption to the 
prosperity of the city — the first recorded eruption of Mount 
Vesuvius, terrifying its inhabitants, demolishing its palaces, 
and desolating its coasts. Then, for a series of centuries, 
with the rest of Italy, it was wasted by civil wars and bar- 
barian incursions. It was taken by Theodoric the Goth, 
but restored by Belisarius to the Grecian empire. It was 
harassed and plundered successively by the Lombards, the 
Saracens, and the Normans ; who, in their turn, became 
the prey of the Germans, the French, and the Spaniards. 
The latter remained its acknowledged masters, governed it 



122 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

by viceroys for many years, and at last gave it a king. Of 
all these different tribes many traces may be discovered in 
the manners, the customs, and the dialect of its people. 
Probably the Latin was never its popular language ; and 
there are more Greek words in its present Italian than in 
that of any other city of the peninsula. The French also 
has affected its pronunciation, and the Saracenic has left its 
alloy. 

No vestiges remain of the ancient magnificence of Nea- 
polls. Her temples, palaces, theatres, and basilicas, de- 
spoiled by the barbarian conqueror, have been shattered 
by the sledge of Vulcan, and Neptune has covered their 
fragments with his waves. Her modern edifices are less 
remarkable for their taste and elegance than for their wealth 
and magnitude. Her population, however, is undoubtedly 
greater now than at any former period ; perhaps also her 
opulence, her industry, and her general prosperity. True, 
never was there a greater swarm of soldiers in Naples 
during a season of peace ; and never, perchance, were they 
more essential to the royal safety and the popular quiet. 
At the same time, never was there so great an influx of 
tourists and transient sojourners ; while, it is said — Heaven 
grant it may be true ! — the class of lazzaroni is constantly 
decreasing, and likely soon to be unknown. Containing 
within her walls nearly half a million of people, her 
suburban towns and villages number not less than a hun- 
dred thousand more. The third city of Europe — the 
queen of the Mediterranean — she sits enthroned in beauty 
upon the border of the bay, with all her maids of honour 
beside her ; and Vesuvius, her royal spouse, with his crown 
of fire, overlooking the array. From the deck of a steamer, 
or from the distant heights of Sorrento, the whole assumes 
the appearance of a continuous city, stretching in a semi- 
circle eighteen miles along the shore, from the Punta di 
Posilipo on the left, to Torre del Annonziata on the right. 
Of the many thousands that eat their daily maccaroni 
within the gates of this fair metropolis, though pretending 
to love their native city to distraction, where is the man 
that would lift his little finger for her benefit? Her artisans 
are snails ; her tradesmen are greedy jobbers ; her soldiers 
are servile hirelings ; her nobles, such as have not yet taken 



JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 123 

to street-begging, care for nothing but the table and the 
theatre ; the king himself is the greatest gambler in the 
world, and derives his largest revenue from the lottery ; 
while his subjects, of both sexes and all classes, live, move, 
and have their being in its hazards and its hopes. 

The most independent class of citizens are the lazzaroni. 
See that specimen yonder, with head, and neck, and bosom 
bare, toasting himself upon the glowing pavement. What 
cares he for yesterday, or what for to-morrow ? His aban- 
don is perfect. With a wit proverbial, a temper invariable, 
and a patience inexhaustible, he unites the art of an impro- 
fisitoj-e, the tact of a diplomatist, and the grace of an 
Apollo. All this is indigenous with him : if he ever stoops 
to the drudgery of what Coleridge calls ' originating an 
idea,' it is in the way of pondering a lucky number for the 
lottery. 

The morning after our arrival a woman lay upon the 
naked stones, in front of the theatre of San Carlo, with 
four ragged little children around her, and she was weeping 
amain. I threw her a few carlini, and passed on. On 
my return, an hour afterwards, she was sitting erect, and 
playing with the children; but as soon as she saw afores- 
tiero approaching, she threw herself flat upon her face, and 
6 lifted up her voice and wept.' Subsequently I met with 
her often, and in various places ; and she was generally 
lying upon the ground, and howling as loud as she could. 
Not understanding how she managed to maintain such con- 
stant intensity of grief, I one day asked our cicerone about 
it. He replied : c Oh, that is her business ; she weeps for her 
maccaroni ; she will never cease weeping till the forestieri 
depart !' 

Without the regularity of what we call a market, certain 
districts here have a traffic peculiar to themselves. If you 
would see oranges, step down to the quay when the boats 
from Sorrento are unloading. If you like oysters, go along 
the street next the bay towards the Villa Reale. There is 
a place near the heart of the city where you may purchase 
almost anything that ever breathed the ocean brine. There 
you will see the delicate little sardine, fresh from its watery 
home ; the skait and the sole, with eyes in the wrong place, 
and mouth all askew; beautiful creatures of all colours, 



124 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

pink and purple, green and yellow, blue and scarlet, all 
intermingled and changeable ; great crawling masses of non- 
descript pulp — half-animal, half-vegetable — contracting and 
expanding like living jellies ; huge eels — the real progeny 
of the sea-serpent — squirming and writhing in their tubs, 
in anticipation of the frying-pan ; little transparent mon- 
strosities, all head, and ninetieth cousins of the crab and the 
lobster, all claw. You will find any desirable number of 
glove-stores in the Strada Toledo, and the article in Naples 
is equal to any you get in Paris, and cheaper than in any 
other city in Europe. You should walk the whole length 
of this fine street, and you will be astonished at the amount 
of mercantile business in sundry departments. Of belle 
arti shops there is no lack in Naples. Who under the sun 
buys all these imitative wares, to say nothing of antiques — 
real or supposed — lava ornaments from Vesuvius, and coral 
trinkets from the sea? In this rainbow-tinted climate, 
everybody is a painter, but every painter is not an artist, 
and most of the pictures are copies, and most of the copies 
are caricatures. 

But he who has seen only the Toledo, and the broad 
streets and beautiful open spaces along the margin of the 
bay, knows nothing yet of Naples. He must dive into the 
populous centre, and thread the narrow lanes and alleys, 
where two-thirds of its people dwell in their dark and 
filthy dens. I had wondered how it was possible that nearly 
five hundred thousand human souls embodied should live 
within an area only some two miles wide and five miles 
long, till one day I accidentally wandered into the lo- 
cality now alluded to. It is impossible to describe the 
scene there beheld — streets without sidewalks, scarcely wide 
enough for a cart ; buildings so lofty as entirely to shut 
out the sun, and almost the daylight; and these literally 
crammed, from cellar to garret, with a miscellaneous and 
miserable population. Thousands also seem to live alto- 
gether in the streets (if that is the appropriate name for 
such dismal ditches), and thousands in the open air carry 
on their various handicrafts. The cobbler, the tinker, the 
bootblack, the blacksmith, the carpenter, and even the pub- 
lic cook, pitch their industrial apparatus against the wall, 
reckless of hoof and wheel, and work away as if the city 



JOURNEY RESUMED AND FINISHED. 125 

were their shop. In other localities frequented by such as 
read and shave, you will see bookstores and barber-shops 
apparently doing a brisk out-door business ; and the man- 
tua-maker and merchant-tailor arrange their respective 
assortments along the swarming avenues ; and here are dry- 
goods and groceries, hardware and cutlery, and all imagi- 
nable vendibles except cleanliness and virtue. Even water 
for drinking is publicly sold in the streets, carried about in 
earthen jars, and dispensed at the corners for a grano a 
glass. 

Half the people one meets with here are soldiers. You 
see a company or two march by your hotel every hour ; and 
from sunrise to sunset, there is scarcely a moment when 
you may not hear the sound of trumpet and drum. The 
castles that guard the harbour command the city too ; and 
their bastions are bristling with cannon, pointing down into 
the streets and squares ; and armed sentinels are pacing the 
walls, and clustering at the corners, and crossing their bay- 
onets at every portal. San? Elmo stands upon a conical 
hill, overlooking everything ; and an enemy in possession 
of it, though an enemy would have something to do to get 
there, might demolish Naples in a few hours. The Ovo 
and the Nuovo could sweep the harbour, and make the bay 
in front of them a hot place for a hostile fleet. Every 
guard-house has its row of mounted guns ; and the royal 
residence looks doubly formidable, with its dark array of 
iron muzzles. I never saw another city so earnestly watched 
over, and so evidently ready, at a moment's warning, for an 
outbreak of the people. All is quiet now, but there have 
been recent mutterings underground, and there is no telling 
how soon the smothered fires may burst forth. Where is 
Masaniello ? 



( 126 ) 



CHAPTER XIII. 

NAPOLI LA BELLA. 

Environs— Villa Keale— Chiese de Partu— Poetry — A Picture — 
Burying in Churches — Grotta di Posilipo — Tomb of Virgil — The 
Cathedral — Church of St. Paul — Other Churches — Boyal Palace 
— Capodimonte — The Camaldoli. 

Deep bosomed in the still and quiet bay, 
The sea reflecting all that glows above ; 
Till a new sky, more soft, but not so gay, 
Arched in its bosom, trembles like a dove. 

The situation of Naples is one of unrivalled beauty. 
Whoever would look upon the grandest of terrestrial pano- 
ramas, should climb up to the citadel of Sant' Elmo, or 
ascend the lofty ridge of Posilipo. There he will see at 
his feet, lying in a semicircle along the margin of the most 
beautiful bay in the world, a city as fair as a pearly shell 
just cast up by the purple wave. To the east he will see 
Vesuvius, rising in imperial majesty from the level Cam- 
pagna — nature's great altar, smoking with perpetual sacri- 
fice. At its base are four populous towns, sitting as gaily 
upon the shore as if Herculaneum did not slumber in her 
lava tomb beneath, or the excavated palaces and temples 
of Pompeii continually rebuke their temerity. At its 
southern side flows the Sarno, through a valley brown with 
vineyards and bright with villages ; while the Apennines 
in the background stretch away to the right and the left, 
' all glowing of gold and amethyst.' Farther southward 
the Sorrentine Promontory runs far out into the sea, its 
dark side studded with five gemlike cities, and the three- 
pointed Sant' Angelo shooting boldly up five thousand feet 
above the waters which lave its base. Still turning west- 
ward, the eye rests upon the broad expanse of azure, where 
the bay opens out into the Mediterranean ; with Capri on 
the one hand, and Ischia on the other, lifting their rocky 
battlements three thousand feet towards the sky, like two 
great martello towers, reared by nature, on opposite sides 



NArOLI LA BELLA. 127 

of a channel fourteen miles in width, to guard the entrance 
to her loveliest domain. 

Naples is a city difficult to describe. The Italians call 
it bella, and certainly there is about it something of strange 
and wondrous fascination. The grounds of the Villa Reale 
are delightful, with open walks and umbrageous avenues, 
and the fresh breeze from the wave which breaks just below 
the terrace. In the main promenade you see the enormous 
granite bowl from Pestum, supported by modern lions. 
And here are busts and statues — saints and sages, poets 
and orators, heroes and emperors — for those who love to 
look at such things. But let us pass on to the Mergillina^ 
where the tide of life ebbs away. Haste, or that pernicious 
musician will craze you with his bagpipe. I myself nar- 
rowly escaped with my hearing the other day, when one of 
them walked along by my side, blowing most dissonantly 
in my ear; and, on quickening my pace, he quickened his ; 
and the more I cried Non c'e niente, the more lustily he 
blew. Those half-clad urchins, groping among the slippery 
rocks for crabs and sea-horses, seem brothers to the gulls 
that soar and swoop so familiarly about them. Every one 
of the little rascals can dive like a dolphin ; and even 
now that roguish eye is watching to see if you will not 
cast a carlino into the thundering surf. The fishermen 
yonder are noble, stalwart fellow T s, the honest expression of 
whose swarthy countenances gives them an appearance of 
decided superiority to the mass of lower-class Neapolitans. 

Let us proceed. Here is a church, which, though a little 
one, is one of the most interesting in Naples. It was built 
by the poet Sannazarius, on the site of his favourite Villa 
Mergillina, which had previously been destroyed by the 
Prince of Orange, who commanded the garrison during the 
famous siege of Naples by the French. Its builder dedi- 
cated it to the Virgin, and called it De Partu, endowed it 
richly, and sung its charms in true Virgilian verse. The 
poem with which its name is chiefly associated is deemed 
one of the most beautiful that has appeared in the Latin 
language since the revival of letters. Thus it opens : 

1 The virgin-born, coeval with his sire, 
Who left the mansions of celestial bliss, 
To wash away from fainting man the stain 



128 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Of sin original, and opened wide 
The long obstructed way to light and heaven — 
Be he my earliest theme ! with him, my Muse, 
Begin ! Ye Powers above, if naught forbid 
My pious task, unfold the hidden cause, 
And all the progress of a scheme so great !' 

Then follows a magnificent appeal to the Virgin : 

* Celestial Queen ! 
Thou on whom men below and saints above 
Their hopes repose ! on whom the bannered hosts 
Of heaven attend — ten thousand squadrons armed, 
Ten thousand cars self-moved — the clarion shrill — 
The trumpet's voice — while round in martial pomp, 
Orb within orb, the thronging seraphs wheel ! 
If on thy fane, of snow-white marble reared, 
I offer yearly garlands ; — if I raise 
Enduring altars in the hollowed rock, 
Where Mergillina, lifting her tall head, 
A sea-mark to the passing sailor's eye ; — 
If, with due reverence to thy name, I pay 
The solemn rites, the sacrificial pomp, 
When each returning year we celebrate 
The wondrous mystery of the birth divine ; — 
Do thou assist the feeble bard, unused 
To tasks so great, and wand'ring on his way, 
Guide thou my efforts, and inspire my song !' 

Whether the ' Celestial Queen ' heard and answered the 
prayer of the ' bard,' I will not presume to say. Certainly 
she would have done so, if capable of anything like grati- 
tude ; for never before was woman invested with so mag- 
nificent an array — not even Beatrice by her adoring Dante ! 
He appears, at least, to have obtained help from some 
quarter ; for, beyond all question, he sings very sweetly. 

But what of the church? Well, it is neither spacious, 
nor splendid, nor pretty ; but it is most poetically situated, 
as the poet intimates in the foregoing verses, on the side of 
the hill which slopes gently towards the bay, not far from 
the tomb of Yirgil, and the poet himself sleeps within its 
walls. His resting-place is adorned with statues and bassi 
relievi, representing, among other things, pagan divinities, 
satyrs, and nymphs — not very suitable ornaments for a Chris- 
tian sanctuary ; but the fathers of the convent connected 
with the church have ingeniously obviated the incongruity, 
by inscribing the statue of Apollo with the name of David, 



NAPOLI LA BELLA. 129 

and that of Minerva with the name of Judith — an expedient 
which has often been resorted to, it is said, in Rome ; and 
certainly quite as consistent as christening a bronze statue 
of old heathen Jupiter after ' the prince of the apostles,' 
and requiring the whole Catholic creation to come and kiss 
his great toe ; or putting a Saint Peter upon a pillar, whose 
sculptured ornaments perpetuate the fame of the Emperor 
Trajan ; or a Saint Paul, with a sword in his hand, upon a 
column sacred to the memory of Marcus Aurelius ! 

But look we into this little chapel. Here is a picture — 
Michael the archangel trampling Satan under his feet. 
But what a curious conceit of the artist ! the old serpent 
has a female face of most exquisite loveliness ! The reason 
is as curious as the fact. A lady of uncommon beauty 
unfortunately fell in love with the Bishop of Ariano. 
Whether the Right Reverend Father returned her tender 
passion for a season, I cannot say. Certain it is, how- 
ever, according to the story, that sooner or later — per- 
haps about the age of sixty-five, or in the near prospect of 
death — he was smitten with abhorrence of the fair one's 
sacrilegious temerity ; and when fitting up this chapel as 
his mausoleum, he ordered the painter to degrade her into 
the infernal spirit, and lay her prostrate at the point of 
the archangel's spear. This Joseph died, and was not 
canonized ! 

By the way, what a lamentable, disgusting, pernicious, 
and impious practice is that of heaping up putrid carcasses 
in holy places, and making the house of God a graveyard ! 
How strange it is, that so odious a custom should have been 
so obstinately retained, not only in Papal Italy, but also in 
Protestant England and America ! It would be difficult to 
educe one argument in its favour, either from the principles 
of religion, or from the dictates of reason ; while its incon- 
veniences are obvious, and its evil consequences are unde- 
niable. Among the early Christians, the honour of being 
deposited in the church was reserved for martyrs. Con- 
stantine only desired to lie in the porch of the Basilica of 
the apostles, which he himself had erected at Constantinople. 
Therefore the eloquent Chrysostom, speaking of the triumph 
of Christianity, proudly observes, that the Caesars, subdued, 
through the grace of God, by the fisherman whom they had 

K 



130 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN" EUROPE. 

persecuted, now appeared as suppliants before them, and 
gloried in occupying 1 the place of porters at the doors of 
their sepulchres. Bishops and distinguished divines were 
afterwards gradually permitted to share the honours of the 
martyrs, and to repose with them in the interior of the 
sanctuary. A pious wish in some to be entombed near 
such holy persons, and to rest under the shadow of the 
altars ; in others, an absurd love of distinction even in 
death — to which may be added the avarice of the clergy, 
who, by making the privilege expensive, rendered it envi- 
able — by degrees broke through all the wholesome restric- 
tions of antiquity, and at length converted the temples of 
the living God into the loathsome dormitories of the dead ! 

But let us proceed, submissive reader, for there are won- 
ders beyond. See you that lofty promontory, projecting far 
out into the bay ? That is the Punta di Posilipo. See 
you that dark aperture, looking like a great Gothic arch 
in the brown tufa ? That is the Grotta di Posilipo — an 
ancient tunnel, half a mile long, twenty-two feet wide, and 
at the entrance seventy feet high, by which the road passes 
through the hill, from Naples to Pozzuoli and Baise. 
Observe, as we approach it, how the long lines of dimly- 
burning lamps glimmer through the darkness on both sides 
of the little patch of daylight, apparently not larger than 
your hat, at the other extremity. Hark ! as we enter, how 
voice and footstep echo along the subterranean gloom, and 
the single horseman that comes yonder makes more clatter 
than a whole troop of the old Roman cavalry, and the 
thunder of a solitary vettura is as if Caesar were at hand, 
with a hundred triumphal chariots. 

Who knows the origin of this great tunnel ? In the middle 
ages it was supposed to be the work of Virgil, and the com- 
mon people believed it to have been done by the poet's 
magic. It must have existed from the early days of Rome, 
but we have no distinct mention of it till the time of Nero. 
Seneca passed through it on his way from Baice to Naples ; 
and he describes it as a long and gloomy prison, in which 
he ' found nothing but mud, and dust, and darkness 
visible.' In the fifteenth century, the floor was lowered, 
the roof was raised, and two air-shafts were opened 
above. A hundred years later, it was paved with large 



NAPOLI LA BELLA. 131 

polygonal blocks of lava, a la Via Appia ; and since that 
period sundry other improvements have been added. One 
sees now, upon the walls on either side, at different eleva- 
tions, the grooves made by the axles of vehicles in former 
times. Some of these are twenty or thirty feet above our 
heads at the entrance, indicating that the floor has been as 
much higher than it is at present. About midway of the 
cavern, we find a little chapel cut in the wall, in which a 
light is ever burning before the image of the Virgin. 
These scanty lamps are not half sufficient for the length of 
the passage, and one would think it must be a dangerous 
place for pedestrians. But here it opens to the western 
daylight, toward the ancient Elysian Fields, and a hundred 
scenes of classic interest beyond. These, however, at 
present we cannot visit. Let us retrace our steps through 
the darkness, for we have left behind us one object which 
no tourist in Italy neglects — the tomb of Yirgil. 

Just where we entered the Grotta, a steep flight of steps 
leads up the rugged precipice into a vineyard. The custode 
already awaits us there, with the key. We follow him to 
the very top of the stupendous arch under which we lately 
passed. Here is a vaulted chamber, with a dome over it, 
and niches for urns and statues in the walls. Here, tradi- 
tion says, sleeps the great Latin poet. He died at JBrundu- 
sium, and was brought hither at his own request for burial. 
Somewhere upon this picturesque promontory he had his 
villa ; where he wrote his Eclogues, his Georgics, and per- 
haps his ^Eneid. The laurel planted by Petrarch over the 
tomb has disappeared piecemeal beneath the knife of the 
tourist, and many a twig and chip of it has travelled to 
England and America. From this advantageous eminence, 
one has a delightful view of the city and the bay, with 
Vesuvius across the water, whose cloudy pillar props the 
incumbent heaven. It is a delicious day, and sea and sky 
combine to produce an effect which defies alike the pencil 
and the pen. The purple sheen of the wave, the pearly 
radiance of the shore, the opal tints of the surrounding 
hills, and a heaven whose blue seems melted down in a way 
never witnessed out of Italy, invest the prospect with an 
ineffable beauty, making sight a wondrous blessedness, and 
giving a new luxury to life. 



132 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Let us return into the city, and take a view of some of its 
churches. And first to the Neapolitan Cathedral. It stands 
upon the substructions of a temple of Apollo, and is adorned 
with more than a hundred columns once belonging to that 
ancient edifice. It was originally a Gothic structure ; but 
having been shattered by successive earthquakes, it has been 
repaired in so many different manners, that it presents now 
no particular order, but rather a combination of all. Its 
ornaments are in perfect keeping with its architecture — a 
jumble of beauties and deformities. Its most sacred de- 
posits, and indeed the most valuable treasures in the city — 
not excepting even the great sardonyx in the Museo Bor- 
bonico — are, first, the remains of Saint Januarius, which 
lie in a chapel beneath the choir ; and, secondly, his blood, 
which is kept in a bottle, and said to liquefy twice a year, 
while the stone on which he suffered martyrdom breaks 
into a crimson perspiration. Into the truth of these 
phenomena the Neapolitans never give themselves the 
trouble to inquire ; acting on the maxim of the ancient 
Germans, that it is more reverent and holy to believe things 
relating to the gods than to know them. And why should 
they not believe? Have not the bones of Saint Januarius, 
borne in procession through the streets of Naples, more 
than once appeased the wrath of old Yulcan, and arrested 
the fire-torrent that was rolling down the steep of Vesuvius ? 

The Church of Saint Paul occupies in part the site of a 
temple of Castor and Pollux, and in part that of the theatre 
where Nero first made his appearance in the imperial 
character of an actor on the stage. In its front are two of 
the fine Corinthian columns which formed the portico of 
the original building ; six others were destroyed by the 
earthquake which overthrew it. The interior is spacious, 
well proportioned, and encrusted with precious marble. 
The chancel is extensive, and supported by beautiful 
antique pillars, which possibly belonged also to the ancient 
temple. 

I must hasten. The Church of SS. Apostoli stands on 
the ruins of the temple of Mercury, is supposed to have 
been erected by Constantine, has been several times shat- 
tered and rebuilt, and is now a magnificent structure. That 
of S. Lorenzo occupies the site of the Basilica Augustalis 



NAP0LI LA BELLA. 133 

— a noble hall, demolished in the thirteenth century, and 
replaced by the present comparatively tasteless building. 
That of S. Spirito is of a purer and simpler style ; adorned 
with fine Corinthian pilasters, entablature, and cornice ; 
encumbered with a superfluity of ornament, and wanting a 
softer colour to please the eye. That of S. Dominico Mag- 
giore is remarkable for the tomb and bronze bust of the 
poet Marini, erected at the desire of Manso, the friend of 
Tasso and Milton, who left a bequest for the purpose. 
That of S. Filippo Neri is one of the finest churches 
in Naples, and famous for the number of ancient pillars 
that support its triple row of aisles on each side of the 
nave. That of S. Gaudioso, belonging to the Benedictine 
convent, contains the blood of St. Stephen, which, like 
that of Saint Januarius, liquefies annually on the day of the 

martyr's festival. That of S. Giovanni 

But you must be tired, dear reader, and so am I. Let 
us have done with churches. If I should devote half a 
dozen lines to every one of the S. Giovannis, and Gioco- 
mos, and Gregorios, and Giorgios, and Gennaros, and 
Martinos, and Antonios, and Catarinas, and Augustinas, 
and Annunziatas* and Incoronatas, and Ascensiones, I 
fear you would never forgive me; and if I should add all 
the Marias, of which there are not less than thirty, surely 
I should ruin myself with all my readers. There are 
more than three hundred churches in Naples ; and some of 
them, artistically considered, are of immense value ; but 
religiously regarded, the African church in Nashville, or 
the basement of Trinity in Charleston, is worth a million of 
them ! 

The Royal Palace is a spacious and magnificent struc- 
ture. Its front is five hundred feet long, and more than a 
hundred feet high. The columns and pilasters of its three 
stories exhibit three orders of architecture — the Doric, the 
Ionic, and the Composite. Its furniture is equal to that 
of any palace in Europe. One of its upper saloons has 
twelve of the largest mirrors in the world, simply em- 
panelled in a delicate border. On the ground-floor is a 
suite wholly wainscotted with real frescoes and arabesques 
from Pompeii. 

Capo-di-monte is the King's suburban villa. It occupies 



134 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

an elevated site, strangely beautiful, upon the undermined 
crust of a tufo quarry, which has been artificially strength- 
ened to support the superincumbent structure. The grounds 
are delightful, and there is an ilex-shaded avenue more than 
a mile in length. Its farm is said to supply the royal table, 
and send a surplus to the Neapolitan market. Its balconies 
afford refreshing views of the city and its environs. Its 
pictures are not despicable, especially those which relate to 
events in the national history. Particularly interesting is 
' The Brave Girl of Gaeta,' who, after despatching the 
French sentry a la Jael, spikes the guns with a store of 
ready nails from her apron, and then delivers over the for- 
tress to her townsmen. 

Occupying the highest point of a range of hills north- 
west of Naples, overlooking the city, and commanding a 
view of the bay, and many a scene immortalized by Livy 
and Virgil, stands a monastery, called the Camaldoli. Of 
course the ladies of our party were not permitted to enter 
the cloisters, and we preferred their company to that of the 
monks, and the view we enjoyed without must have been 
infinitely better than anything to be seen within. There 
were the bay and the sea, as blue as the azure above them ; 
and there was the capital of the Two Sicilies, with the fine 
promontories of Posilipo and Misinum ; and there was the 
modern representative of the tovrn, where Paul, the prisoner, 
with Luke, his companion, first touched the Italian shore ; 
and there were Avernus, and Lucrinus, and the Acheron, 
and the Elysian Fields, and the site of the beautiful Baiae, 
and of Cumae and Liturnum, and the two villas of the 
greatest of Roman orators ; and there were the sweet 
islands of Nesida, Procida, and Ischia, with Capri beyond, 
lying like a great sphinx upon the water; and the Sorren- 
tine coast, with its mountain crest, and its smiling cities ; 
and Vesuvius sending up its vapoury column to the sky, like 
the fume of a mighty sacrifice ; and the vast panorama of 
the Campania Felix, with its far-spreading vineyards and 
olive groves, and here and there a village gleaming out 
from the foliage, walled in by the purple Apennines. If. 
was a scene to intoxicate the soul; and, in the satisfaction 
of the hour, we forgot the monks and the monastery, and all 
the little sorrow of life floated ofTinto the blue ether above us. 



( 135 ) 



CHAPTER XIV. 



MOUNT VESUVIUS. 



The Ascent — The Summit — Ancient condition — Grand Eruption 
of A. d. 79 — Constant Changes — Other Eruptions — View from the 
Top —Descent — Various Impressions. 

Mount Vesuvius was in full view from our hotel ; its 
dark swelling outline forming a grand pedestal for the 
column of cloud which stood upon its summit during the 
day, and which the night kindled into a pillar of fire. The 
sun had just risen above it, and hung tremulous in his lurid 
canopy, as if ready to fall back into the crater whence he 
seemed to have come, when we set forth on a visit to the 
volcano. Six miles from the city we rattled through the 
main street of Resina, with the palaces and temples of the 
buried Herculaneum eighty feet beneath our wheels. Here 
begins the ascent, where carriages are usually exchanged for 
horses and donkeys. Forty persons, at least, offered their 
services as ciceroni. Advertised of the impositions con- 
tinually practised by these fellows, and desirous of obtaining 
the well-known veteran who has had the honour of conduct- 
ing Baron Von Humboldt and many other scientific gen- 
tlemen, we inquired at once for Vincenzo Cozzolino. One 
of the crowd promptly replied, ' I am Cozzolino ;' and our 
driver, who knew him well, promptly confirmed the declara- 
tion. Unwilling to take the word of either, we applied to a 
shopkeeper for further information. He pointed us to a 
sign across the street, where we had the good fortune to find 
the real Cozzolino at his breakfast. Cozzolino, the pre- 
tender, was now ready to furnish us with beasts, and in 
five minutes more we were mounted and on our way. Our 
cavalcade was a most ludicrous spectacle, climbing a steep 
and narrow alley in single file, a dozen men and boys 
belabouring the poor animals with clubs, and shouting and 
yelling like a whole tribe of Indians. This assistance was 
more than we had bargained for ; and we had actually to 



136 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

beat the rabble off, before we could pursue our way in 
peace. 

A rough ride of an hour and a half, by a gentle ascent, 
first through gardens and vineyards, and then over succes- 
sive beds of lava, some of them only a few years old, 
brought us to the foot of the great cone. Here we left our 
animals, and began the ascent on foot. It was the steepest 
and roughest road I had ever travelled. The lava, which 
contracts in cooling, and breaks into a thousand fragments, 
has precisely the appearance of cinders from a furnace, only 
the masses are larger, and their sharp angles form as 
uncomfortable a pavement as can well be imagined. We 
saw other ladies carried up in chairs, each upon four 
men's shoulders, a la pope in Saint Peter's; but ours were 
American ladies, and declined all such assistance. We then 
advised, and even urged, that they should allow the guides 
to aid them with straps ; but they stoutly resisted our im- 
portunity, and worked their way over the sharp masses 
with characteristic independence and energy. It was a 
long and toilsome effort ; and ever and anon, as they paused 
for breath, our officious Italian friends would call out one 
to another, ' Signora e medza morta, Signorina e pronta di 
morire V but our fair heroines pressed bravely on, literally 
panting for the summit, and insisting that their promenade 
was very pleasant ; till their score of kind attendants, find- 
ing all their arguments and entreaties thrown away, forsook 
them, and returned in grievous disappointment to the foot 
of the cone. We were all under the necessity of stopping 
frequently to rest, and it was amusing to hear old Cozzo- 
lino urging us forward, with his mingled French, English, 
and Italian — 'Courage, Signora I Avante, Signorina! 
Allez, allez ! Come along. Come along P The ascent 
occupied nearly two hours, and the whole company was 
sufficiently fatigued ; but when near the summit we found 
a large mass of snow, which proved a delightful refresh- 
ment. We could not have had a more favourable day for 
our purpose ; for the sky was perfectly clear, and a light 
breeze bore the vapour and ashes in the opposite direction, 
so that we breathed a pure atmosphere, and had an unob- 
structed view. 

I shall never forget the moment when I first stood upon 



MOUNT VESUVIUS. 137 

the verge of the great crater, and looked down into the 
fierce caldron at my feet. It is a round hole in the top of 
the mountain, about three hundred feet deep, and something 
more in diameter. Its walls are perpendicular, and appear 
to consist of solid masses of sulphur. From the centre rises 
a black cone nearly to a level with the surrounding rim, 
precisely in the form of a funnel inverted in a tub. In the 
apex is an opening some twenty or thirty feet in width, 
puffing and blowing like fifty steam-engines, and pouring 
forth a tremendous volume of smoke. Occasionally the 
liquid mass is seen boiling and surging within, and ever and 
anon it flows over the edge, and rolls down the outside, like 
a stream of melted iron. At irregular intervals, varying 
from one minute to five, a grand explosion, like the blow- 
ing up of a Mississippi steamer, sends the red-hot stones 
five or six hundred feet above the summit ; and these fall 
back into the glowing furnace, or come rattling down upon 
the sides of the cone. When these phenomena occurred, 
our old guide would clap his hands, and shout — ' Bravo, 
bravo, Fra Diavolo !' and challenge his infernal majesty 
to a bolder demonstration. Indeed, he entered heartily 
into the enthusiasm of the company, and seemed to enjoy 
the scene as much as any of us, though he had witnessed it 
a thousand times. Several black masses beneath our feet, 
he told us, had fallen there during the preceding night ; 
but there was no danger now, for the wind was blowing in 
the other direction. He showed us two large stones, one 
of which, in falling, some time ago, had killed an American 
officer, and the other had broken the skull of an English- 
man. He said he had attended Humboldt in twenty-seven 
visits to the mountain, during three months which the 
philosopher spent at Naples for this purpose. While we 
were there, an English party came up, under the guidance 
of the old man's son, some of whom ventured too near the 
brink to suit his ideas of prudence, and one of them, in 
spite of his admonitions, exposed himself to great danger, 
whereupon Cozzolino exclaimed — ; Oh, he is an English- 
man : he is a fool !' 

Very near this crater is another, of about the same 
diameter, but not quite so deep, with a smaller cone near 
its western wall, whose action was similar to that of the 



138 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

former, though less violent. One side of this crater is 
sloping ; and we descended, ankle-deep in hot ashes. The 
bottom is a level space, about two hundred feet across, and 
looks like a mass of melted pitch, the surface of which has 
hardened in ridges, contracting as it cooled, producing 
many cracks and chasms. The sulphurous vapour that 
came up through these openings was almost suffocating; 
and though we remained there not more than two or three 
minutes, and kept stepping continually, our boots were 
burned, and our feet well-nigh blistered with the heat. In 
the fissures, as we crossed them, we could see the red mass 
boiling beneath us ; and here and there it was slowly 
oozing up, and flowing over the surface. The bottom of 
Mrs. C.'s dress took fire, and she beat a hasty retreat. 
As she stepped from the edge of the black crust, it broke 
beneath her tread, and the red lava came gushing up from 
the crack, and the fragment went slowly under, like the 
scum in a boiling pot. This black crust, indeed, is but the 
surface of a lake of fire, partially cooled upon the top by 
the action of the atmosphere. When we ascended, we 
found a collation awaiting us, consisting of bread and wine, 
with oranges, and some eggs, which an old man had 
cooked in a crevice, whence hot vapour issued. But poor 
Mr. Dey sank fainting from the effect of the sulphurous 
fumes he had inhaled, and it was a long time before he 
fully recovered. He had ' taken too much of the crater ? 

Viewed from Naples, Vesuvius appears to have two 
summits, with a deep valley between them ; the southern 
or right hand one being the volcano, and the other called 
Monte Somma. From the top, however, the latter seems 
to be the segment of a circle, extending nearly half-way 
round the former, and perpendicular on the inner side. It 
is supposed to have formerly encircled the present eruptive 
cone, and formed the wall of the original crater, which 
rose to a much greater height ; but the top of it, with all 
the southern and western sides, was blown away in 
the terrible eruption of 79, which destroyed Hercu- 
laneum and Pompeii. This supposition is abundantly 
confirmed by the history of that eruption, as well as by 
geological investigations and the ancient descriptions of 
Vesuvius. The old geographers, before the reign of Titus, 



MOUNT VESUVIUS. 139 

speak of it as much larger and higher than it is now, and 
covered with a luxuriant vegetation to the very rim of the 
rocky hollow upon its summit. There were traditions of 
its having vomited fire and smoke ; but the first recorded 
eruption was that just mentioned, in which the elder Pliny 
perished, and of which his nephew — the younger Pliny — 
was the historian. The latter tells us that the column of 
smoke which heralded that grand disaster was similar in 
form to a pine-tree. This will hardly be understood by 
one who has never seen the stone-pine of Italy, of which I 
believe we have no specimen in America. The tree shoots 
up to a great height without limbs, and then spreads out 
into a broad top, something like an umbrella. Such was 
the appearance of this tremendous cloud, ascending to an 
immense altitude, and then spreading over the heavens. 
Afterwards it settled down over land and sea, producing 
darkness deeper than the blackest night ; and ever and 
anon broad vivid flashes of lightning broke through the 
gloom, with reports which made heaven and earth to 
quake. The steam which ascended from the crater fell in 
torrents of hot water, bringing with it the light ashes 
which filled the air, and sweeping down the loose cinders 
from the side of the mountain, burying Herculaneum in a 
deluge of mud, which penetrated all its houses, and 
afterwards hardened into stone. Meantime the glowing 
ashes piled themselves over the loftiest palaces and temples 
of Pompeii, producing a destruction not less effectual than 
the former. An immense column of flame shot up from the 
mountain, and fire and noxious vapour burst forth from 
the plain. The elder Pliny, who was creeping along the 
coast in a galley to rescue his friend at Stabie from the 
danger, saw huge masses, rent from the summit, roll down 
into the sea ; while a tempest of fire and ashes, flint and 
pumice-stone, beat incessantly into the ship. The smoke 
extended over a vast area, the scoria fell in very remote 
localities, and the greater part of the mountain was torn 
away. But this tremendous discharge exhausted the 
volcano, and it remained quiescent a hundred and twenty- 
four years. After this, eruptions succeeded one another at 
long intervals, the greatest being two hundred and sixty- 
nine years; during which the mountain became covered 



140 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

with trees, and the thick copse-wood within the crater was 
a covert for wild boars. In the seventeenth century, how- 
ever, there were six distinct eruptions ; in the eighteenth, 
no less than thirty ; and the nineteenth promises a still 
greater number, for seventeen have occurred already. 
There are fifty-four of these destructive phenomena on 
record, besides many smaller ones, which did little or no 
damage. 

The form and appearance of the mountain are constantly 
changing, and often an eruption alters the entire aspect of 
the great central cone. During the last twenty-five years, 
its altitude has varied about seven hundred feet. It is now 
about four thousand feet high ; and, according to Humboldt, 
is constantly growing higher, being lifted up by the tremen- 
dous force within ; and this process may still go on, till 
another grand explosion shall rend it asunder, and demolish 
the mountain as before. An American gentleman, long 
resident in Rome, informed the writer that when he visited 
Vesuvius, soon after the eruption of 1850, there was but a 
single crater, and that apparently bottomless ; that by 
means of a rope fastened around his waist, he descended to 
a great depth, and then could see nothing but an immense 
black orifice beneath him. But when we were there, there 
were two active craters, divided by a narrow ridge, both 
nearly full ; and the fiery mass was heaving and boiling 
with a heavy sound below, and the two black cones, with 
frequent terrific explosions, were gradually piling up the 
material for the magnificent eruption which has since 
occurred. What would I not have given for such a 
spectacle ! Old Cozzolino warned us of its approach, and 
prophecies of the event were rife among the Neapolitans, 
who seemed anxious to get up an eruption, probably less 
for our benefit than their own ; but our time was short, 
and our purse was shorter, and the old fire-king was too 
tardy in his grand pyrotechnical display. From the top of 
the mountain we could trace a dozen distinct streams of 
lava down its sides, into the plain below, eight or ten 
miles from their source ; the more recent looking like 
rivers of pitch, streaked here and there with sulphur. We 
passed solid masses of this latter substance, some of them 
very large ; and walked over extensive beds of it, as pure 



MOUNT VESUVIUS. 141 

and beautiful as any I ever saw in the shop of an 
apothecary. 

The glory of Vesuvius is terrible, Even in the com- 
paratively tranquil mood in which we beheld him, ' the 
hiding of his power ' impresses the mind with astonishment 
and awe. What a sight, when he is licking the sky with 
tongues of flame, and flooding his broad flanks with fire ! 
There lies Herculaneum, buried beneath six successive 
deluges of lava, to the depth of eighty or a hundred feet. 
There lies Pompeii, just emerging from her volcanic 
grave, preserved by the very agent of her destruction. 
This mighty ruin, so sudden and entire, more than any- 
thing else, aids us to a proximate idea of the tremendous 
forces at work in the interior of the mountain, and the 
fiery depths bejow. The eruption which happened in 472, 
described by Procopius^ is said to have ' covered Europe 
with ashes, which fell even at Constantinople and Tripoli.' 
That of 1500 left an opening five miles in circuit, and a 
thousand paces deep. In that of 1631, the column of 
vapour extended more than a hundred miles, and many 
persons were killed by its incessant discharges of electricity ; 
while seven distinct torrents of fire flowed from the crater, 
destroying four towns and eighteen thousand people. 
When it was over, the mountain was only half its present 
height, with a crater whose sloping sides might safely be 
descended; but the next eruption, in 1660, completely 
cleaned out the vast cavity, and left the interior inacces- 
sible from the steepness of its walls. In 1695 the mountain 
poured out a fiery stream, five miles long, three hundred 
feet broad, and more than a hundred feet deep ; and when 
examined six vears afterwards, the inside of this mass was 
found to be in a glowing heat. In 1707 it sent forth a 
shower of ashes, which produced total darkness in Naples, 
accompanied with the most appalling thunder and light- 
ning. In 1730 it hurled red-hot stones to the height of 
fifteen hundred feet above the orifice whence they issued. 
In 1737 the ashes and pumice-stone fell four feet deep at 
Ottaiano, eight miles distant ; and trees w r ere broken and 
houses crushed by the weight. In 1760 fifteen small 
craters threw out immense quantities of ashes, and two of 
them discharged torrents of fire. In 1767 the decks of 



142 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

vessels sixty miles distant were covered with the falling 
ashes, and a river of lava seventy feet deep ran six miles 
down the mountain, which was hot enough to set a stick on 
fire thrust into it a year afterwards. In 1779 there was an 
explosion which shook the whole country, and a stupendous 
column of fire suddenly rose to three times the height of 
Vesuvius itself, and vast stones were hurled two thousand 
feet towards heaven, many of which burst like rockets in 
the air, and some of the fragments which fell weighed over 
a hundred pounds, and the roof of every house in Ottaiano 
was demolished by the fiery hail, and the black cloud of 
smoke and ashes travelled a hundred miles in less than two 
hours, and so fierce and frequent were the lightnings that 
darted from it that the Neapolitans were in the utmost 
consternation, fearing the destruction of the city. In 1794 
there was a still more tremendous explosion, and the 
surface of the ground along the coast was seen to undulate 
from east to west like the sea in a storm, and a fissure 
opened down the south-west side of the mountain three 
thousand feet long, and fifteen distinct streams of lava 
poured forth, which united as they descended, passed 
through the town of Torre del Greco, and ran nearly four 
hundred feet into the sea, and two days afterwards the water 
was in a boiling state at the distance of a hundred yards, 
and no vessel could approach without melting the pitch 
from its bottom. In 1822 ashes and stones were thrown 
out, which fell for four days in one continual shower; and 
the column of vapour, which rose ten thousand feet above 
the mountain, descended in deluges of scalding rain upon the 
surrounding villages ; and the eruption left a hollow place 
in the top, with perpendicular walls, three miles in circum- 
ference, and two thousand feet deep. In 1834 the river of 
lava ran nine miles, and radiated a heat which was felt at 
Sorrento — eighteen miles distant. In 1850 Bosco Reale 
was overwhelmed ; and the large and beautiful ilexes which 
shaded the village, as soon as the fiery flood enveloped 
them, with sudden explosions burst into columns of flame. 
In 1855 the current of lava descended ten miles into the 
plain, destroying vineyards and houses in its course ; and 
there it lies now — jagged, and rusty, and streaked with 
sulphur — like a vast furrow ploughed up by confederate 



MOUNT VESUVIUS. 143 

thunderbolts. For an account of this eruption the reader 
is referred to an extract from the manuscript notes of an 
eye-witness, in ' Reflected Fragments/ by the Other Side 
of the House. 

.ZEtna and Vesuvius are two hundred miles apart. It is 
a remarkable fact, that when the former is in eruption, the 
latter is perfectly tranquil ; and, when the eruption ceases, 
immediately resumes its action. It is equally remarkable, 
that before the first great eruption of Vesuvius of which we 
have any account, Ischia and the Solfatara — twenty or 
thirty miles distant — were both active volcanoes ; but since 
the internal fires found vent in Vesuvius, they have been 
constantly dormant ; though the Solfatara is always steam- 
ing, and gives out an unusual volume of vapour when the 
old monarch slumbers. These facts indicate a subterranean 
connection. All southern Italy, indeed, seems to be 
volcanic, and the mountain range which runs through its 
centre is probably but the vaulted covering to a vast 
furnace of fire. 

The view from the top of Vesuvius is inconceivably fine ; 
including Naples, with its unrivalled bay ; the bold head- 
lands of Posilipo and Miseno ; the beautiful islands of 
Procida, Ischia, and Capri ; the broad expanse of the blue 
Mediterranean beyond ; and the vast prospect of the Cam- 
pagna, enclosed with mountains, mantled with vineyards, 
and dotted over with numerous towns and villages. It is 
all bright and beautiful now ; but who knows how soon the 
fair scene may be buried again in ashes, and the villages that 
are climbing the mountain-side swept down by floods of fire ? 

We returned as far as the Hermitage, which is about 
midway up the mountain, and then took the new road, con- 
structed upon a lofty and narrow ridge of lava, which runs 
directly down towards Naples, with a deep gulf on either 
side. The road is exceedingly fine, and winds to and fro 
along the summit of the elevation like a great serpent, in 
the most regular and beautiful manner, through terraced 
vineyards, and gardens, and groves of golden fruit. Re- 
suming our carriage at Resina, we reached our hotel in 
Naples about half-past six in the evening, having been 
absent ten hours and a half — all thoroughly fatigued with 
the trip, but a thousand times repaid for the toil. 



144: THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Some writers and tourists in Italy have spoken of Vesu- 
vius in language of great disrespect ; and so, I am sorry to 
say, did one of our own company, when we were standing 
upon the brink of the crater. Horace Binney Wallace, an 
American poet, calls it ' an accursed monstrosity ' — ' a 
vision of the second death ' — ' a fetid cancer upon the breast 
of earth ' — ' a raw and open ulcer threatening its destruc- 
tion ' — ' a black bosom in which sensual passion has burnt 
itself to exhaustion ' — ' the parched shore of the ever- 
absorbing and ever-empty sea of annihilation ' — ' covered 
with brilliant knoblike blossoms, the sulphurous flowers of 
hell !' Madame de Stael, in Corinne, says that it is ' nature 
committing suicide ' — that the lava is ' of such a lurid tint 
as might represent infernal fire/ advancing with ' the united 
strength and cunning of a great serpent,' or of 'a tiger 
that steals upon his prey ' — that the rocks at the source of 
the flood are ' covered with pitch and sulphur whose colours 
might suit the home of fiends, forming to the eye a dis- 
sonance like that which the ear would experience if pierced 
by the harsh cries of witches conjuring down the moon 
from heaven,' furnishing ' all the materials of the poets' 
portraitures of hell,' suggesting ' a power of evil that la- 
bours to thwart the designs of Providence,' and starting 
the inquiry ' whether goodness presides over the phenomena 
of the universe, or some hidden principle forces nature like 
her sons into ferocity. 5 

All this is to me as ' revoltingly beautiful,' as 6 disgust- 
tingly splendid,' as to one of these authors was the aspect 
of Vesuvius. It is a libel upon the character of the 
volcano, and an unworthy reflection upon the benevolence 
of the Creator. To me, the variegated and blended hues 
of the crater were exceedingly beautiful, while its form and 
action were incomparably sublime. The scene thrilled me 
with ineffable pleasure, and gave me new and delightful 
thoughts of the power of God and the glory of his works. 
One of our party, after descending, said he felt as if he had 
been in the infernal regions ; for my part, I felt as if I had 
been somewhat nearer heaven. The smoke and fire made 
me think of Moses upon ' the Mount of God,' while the 
glorious prospect which lay spread out beneath and around 
reminded me of his Pisgah view of the Promised Land. 



MOUNT VESUVIUS. 145 

One of the writers referred to above says he cares not ' to 
see such a thing again in this world,' and prays that he 
' may never see anything like it in the next.' For my part, 
I should like to see it once a week as long as I live ; and 
daily, while we remained at Naples, the first thing I did 
after leaving my chamber in the morning, and the last 
before retiring at night, was to take a look at Vesuvius.* 

* The contrast between the preferences of our traveller, and 
1 one of the writers referred to,' is at least striking. — Ed. 



( 146 ) 



CHAPTER XV, 

THE BURIED CITIES. 

Museo Borbonico — Works of Art — Domestic Articles — Hercula- 
neimi — The Theatre — * New Excavation '—Pompeii — Temples 
— ' Street of Abundance '—Theatre — Miscellaneous Objects—- 
Via Appia — Yilla of Diomede. * 

Taking the advice of the guide books, we visited the 
Museo Borbonico, the Royal Museum of Naples, prepara- 
tory to an excursion to the Buried Cities. Here is a large 
collection of curious and interesting things, found during 
the excavation of Herculaneum and Pompeii — illustrating 
more perfectly than any history could do it, the manners 
and customs of the ancient times. The first hall we entered 
contained frescoes, transferred from the disinterred walls. 
Some of these are indeed wonderful productions, consider- 
ing the age in which they were executed, and the centuries 
they have lain concealed in their lava shrouds ; and, even 
independently of these circumstances, many of them are 
intrinsically interesting as works of art. There are already 
nearly two thousand objects, and the number is constantly 
increasing as the excavations progress. Few of the subjects 
of these paintings are historical ; many are natural, and 
more are mvthological. The last seems to have been the 
favourite department of the Pompeian and Herculanean 
artists, and nearly all their larger works consist of delinea- 
tions of the more sentimental scenes of mythological litera- 
ture. Some of the best pieces are Hercules strangling the 
serpent, Telephus nursed by the hind, Theseus killing the 
centaur, Iphigenia borne to the altar, Ariadne abandoned 
at Naxos, Polyphemus receiving a repulsive letter from 
Galatea, Achilles delivering Briseis to the heralds of 
Agamemnon, Py lades and Orestes conducted in chains to 
the sacrifice ; and then there are the love-bargain, the rope- 
dancers, the thirteen Danzatrici, a lady at the toilette, a 
blind man led by a dog, fruits and flowers, birds and fishes, 



THE BURIED CITIES. 147 

men and donkeys, temples and landscapes, battles and 
festivals, with other objects too numerous to mention, but 
too curious not to be observed. 

From this we passed to the galleries of sculpture, occupy- 
ing three large porticoes, six smaller apartments, a cabinet, 
an ante-room, and a spacious open court. Our hasty walk 
through this rich storehouse of beauty was, of course, in- 
sufficient for any adequate impression of its details ; and 
selecting such objects as seemed most worthy of our atten- 
tion, we were obliged to pass the rest with the briefest side- 
glance. Of equestrian statues, those of the Balbi — father 
and son — found in the Basilica of Herculaneum, are the 
most remarkable. The Farnese Minerva, a colossal figure 
in Parian marble, cost nearly forty thousand dollars, yet it 
does not appear at all conspicuous in the collection. The 
Farnese Bacchus is exquisitely graceful ; and the Wounded 
Gladiator, and the sitting statue of Agrippina, are scarcely 
surpassed in their kind. The Venus Callipyge stands like 
a Queen amid a crowd of Yenuses. The busts are innu- 

X 

merable — busts of gods and goddesses, of poets, sages, 
orators, and emperors. To describe minutely one in fifty 
would be to write a volume, and a mere catalogue could 
not be very edifying to the reader. 

The ancient bronzes constitute the largest and finest col- 
lection in the world, occupying some nine or ten spacious 
rooms, and most of them found at Herculaneum and Pom- 
peii. A statue of Mercury in repose, from the former, has 
been pronounced the most perfect in existence. A sleeping 
faun, a dancing faun, a drunken faun, six statues of 
actresses, found in the theatre at Herculaneum, busts of 
three of the Ptolomies with diadems, of Plato, Berenice, and 
Scipio Africanus, are among the chief beauties of this in- 
comparable collection. Bronze seems to have been the 
common metal of the ancients, answering nearly all the 
purposes for which we now employ iron. Here is one 
room occupied entirely with cooking utensils — pans, skillets, 
kettles, egg-boilers — all of bronze, lined with silver, and 
many of them filled with lava. Here is a Pompeian 
cooking-stove, which would afford an interesting study for 
a New England genius, and which any modern housewife 
might deem an acquisition. Another room is full of weights, 



148 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN EUROPE. 

scales, and measures, candelabra, and so on, many of them 
of the most curious and fanciful construction. Another 
contains vessels and instruments of sacrifice — knives, hooks, 
plates, braziers, tripods, caldrons, and altars. And then 
there are the weapons of the warrior, strangely grouped 
with the tools of the citizen and the husbandman — the 
sword hanging with the carpenter's saw, and the spear with 
the vine-dresser's knife. There was the helmet of the 
soldier w 7 hose skeleton was found guarding the gate of 
Pompeii, where he had stood 1678 years — the helmet and 
nothing else! And there were musical instruments, sur- 
gical instruments, and the gambler's cards and dice, with 
the stylus and tablets of the scribe. And there were nails, 
and locks, and keys, and thimbles, and needles, and bodkins, 
and tickets for the theatre, and nice little soap dishes for 
the toilette, and tiny pots of whiting and rouge for the necks 
and cheeks of Pompeian beauty. The sixth and seventh 
chambers contain a heterogeneous assemblage of the most 
recently discovered articles — kitchen furniture, bathing 
vessels, the tools of all arts and occupations under the sun ; 
most of them as ingenious in contrivance, and as convenient 
for use, as anything of the kind now found in France, 
England, Germany, or America ; and some of our party 
were constantly exclaiming, ' The nineteenth century has 
nothing better than this !• 

Then we came to the cabinet of gems, containing all the 
articles of jewelry found in the buried cities. PI ere is a 
wonderful collection of gold and precious stones, a large 
proportion of which was taken from the house of Diomede 
at Pompeii. Here are earrings, pendants, brooches, brace- 
lets, and necklaces, all of the costliest gems, set in the 
finest gold. Some of the golden bands for the wrists and 
ankles, I should judge, would weigh two or three pounds a 
pair. We saw rings still upon the fingers, just as they were 
found ; and one large case is filled with rings recently taken 
from the fingers that wore them two thousand years ago, 
The hand of a woman, grasping a purse of money, retains 
its perfect shape, though charred by volcanic fire. Of 
cameos, intaglios, and the like there seemed to be no end. 
A single onyx, six inches or more in diameter, carved with 
the most curious devices, is said to be worth everything 



THE BURIED CITIES. 149 

else in the collection. Then there were spoons, forks, 
knives, plates, silver kettles, and elegantly engraved mirrors. 
And there were figs, olives, walnuts, lentiles, barley, rice, 
and wheat, and seeds of various sorts, all completely cal- 
cined. And there were corks and sponges, nets, ropes, and 
linen cloths, in the same condition ; but showing distinctly 
their texture, and giving us an insight of the household 
economy of a former age. And there were paints, and oils, 
and dyes, and chalk, and soap, and putty, and white lead, 
still in the glass jars in which they were exposed for sale. 
And there were bottles of wine, not easy to drink at pre- 
sent, and loaves of bread stamped with the baker's name, 
and meats and vegetables in the pot, which the red lava 
finished cooking, when it roasted the cook in his kitchen. 
One very interesting object was a large piece of cloth, of 
very coarse texture, not unlike American tow-cloth, which, 
we were assured, was asbestos, found near a tomb, and used 
fbr wrapping the body when it was burned, in order to 
preserve the ashes. 

The collection of ancient medals, numbering fifty thou- 
sand, and the terra cotta articles, amounting to six thousand, 
and the curious hail of mosaics, and the fine array of sepul- 
chral vases, and the incomparable assemblage of antiquities 
from the Nile, these, ' all and sundry,' we passed unseen 
for want of time. Nor is it to be much regretted that we 
could not even look into one of the fourteen rooms of paint- 
ings, when we remember how useless is the hasty examina- 
tion which the tourist usually bestows upon such produc- 
tions ; for it has been truly said, that ' He who has seen but 
one work of ancient art has seen none, and he who has seen 
a thousand has seen but one.' 

Having examined the Museum, w T e were now ready for 
a survey of the buried cities, whence most of its treasures 
were taken. The sun rose, wreathed with smoke, over the 
cone of Vesuvius, as we rushed merrily along the curving 
shore towards the scene of his triumph, seventeen hundred 
and seventy-eight years before, over the pride and the power 
of man. Three quarters of an hour brought us to the 
royal villa at Portici, a handsome building, with fine 
gardens and shrubbery. It spans the street, and you pass 
through its court on your way to Vesuvius. One of its 



150 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

rooms is inlaid with porcelain, representing flowers, fruits, 
birds, and various animals, copied chiefly from frescoes 
found in Herculaneum. In another department were 
formerly deposited the various interesting objects taken 
from the buried cities ; but, as they increased in number, 
the place became, 6 too strait ' for them, and they were re- 
moved to the Royal Museum in Naples. The palace 
contains some fine paintings and statues ; which, however, 
we did not tarry to examine, for a vast city lay beneath, 
and we were anxious to explore its subterranean halls. 

Herculaneum was destroyed in the seventy-ninth year of 
the Christian era, when Titus was on the imperial throne, 
not by a flood of lire, but by a torrent of volcanic mud, 
which rolled down the mountain side, filled and covered all 
its houses, and afterwards hardened into stone. Subse- 
quent eruptions buried it still deeper beneath alternate 
strata of ashes and lava, till it lay eighty feet under the 
surface. Its name and catastrophe were too well recorded 
to be forgotten ; but its site, though marked out by the 
ancients with tolerable precision, was a subject of debate 
among the learned, till an accident determined the con- 
troversy. Near the beginning of the last century, a 
peasant, sinking a well in his garden, found several frag- 
ments of marble. Excavations were now instituted, and a 
marble temple was discovered, adorned with the finest 
statues. Then the Neapolitan government interposed, 
and all further investigation was suspended for the next 
twenty years. At the end of this period, the ground was 
purchased, and a palace built upon it for the king. How 
much better it would have been to order extensive ex- 
cavations, and lay open to public inspection the buried 
glories of antiquity ! But such is a specimen of royal 
stupidity. 

More recently, however, other openings have been 
made in the tufa ; but more for the purposes of gain than 
of a liberal curiosity. A basilica has been discovered, two 
temples, and a theatre ; all of which have been stripped 
of their numerous pillars and statues, and nothing has 
been left that could be turned into money. Streets have 
been opened, well paved, with side walks ; and private 
houses, and sepulchral monuments, have been explored, 



THE BURIED CITIES. 151 

and rifled of their treasures* Columns of marble and 
alabaster, numerous bronze statues, paintings, and mosaics, 
many of them perfectly preserved, others fractured and 
damaged, have been brought up from their dark conceal- 
ment ; with various pieces of armour, articles of jewelry, 
chirurgical and agricultural instruments, kitchen utensils 
and domestic furniture. But the most curious and valu- 
able things found in this subterranean city were the 
manuscripts, Greek and Latin, which had slept here for 
so many centuries. It was impossible to recover them 
uninjured, and many of them were totally ruined in the 
process of unrolling. Hundreds and hundreds have been 
obtained, but the excavations are as yet very limited and 
partial, and who can tell what literary treasures — what 
extensive libraries — lie yet entombed in these beds of 
tufa ? Perhaps some future excavator may be fortunate 
enough to find here some of those great works of an- 
tiquity, the loss of which has been so long lamented — the 
books wanting in Tacitus, the Decades of Titus Livius, 
the treatise of Cicero De Gloria, or his dialogues De 
Republica, that grand repository of all the political 
wisdom of the ancients. But royalty* moves slowly, and 
Herculaneum must bide her time. 

The entrance to the buried city is from the main street 
of Resina. The guide furnished each of us with a light, 
and then led the way down a dark staircase hewn in the 
solid lava. We soon came to the area of the great 
theatre, larger than any modern theatre of Europe. There 
were the semicircular seats, cut in the everlasting tra- 
vertine, and rising one above another like a flight of steps. 
The walls, pillars, and arches which are laid bare display 
occasional patches of frescoes, mosaics, and inscriptions, 
though most of these ornaments have been removed to 
the Royal Museum. The orchestra is very spacious, 
affording ample room for more than a hundred musicians. 
We went ' behind the scenes,' and stood upon the stage 
where the actors strutted in mimic royalty, or fumed and 
fainted with counterfeit passion two thousand years ago. 
We entered the ' Green Room,' where we saw the impress 

* This relates to a type of Italian royalty rapidly disappearing. 
—Ed. 



152 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of a comic mask in the volcanic stone ; and where, when 
the place was first opened, were found inscriptions re- 
lating to the erection of the theatre, and recording the 
names of the architects, and of the censor and judge at 
whose expense it was built. From this great theatre 
were taken the fine equestrian statues of the Balbi, men- 
tioned in my account of the Museo Borbonico. While 
there we heard the thunder of the carriages upon the 
paved street above us, faintly representing the terrific 
noises which accompanied the catastrophe of the city. 
For a long time past there have been no new excavations 
in this direction, and probably it will be a long time 
before there will be any more ; for the depth and hardness 
of the tufa render it very laborious, and the property 
above is deemed too valuable to be endangered. It is a 
pity, however, that the streets and buildings formerly 
opened should be filled up again with the rubbish of more 
recent excavations ; but such is the characteristic indolence 
of Italian labourers, and such the Vandal indifference of 
those who have charge of the work. 

Having explored these interesting vaults, we retraced 
our steps, up the dark staircase, into the light of day* 
The next thing to be seen was the ' New Excavation, 5 
near the seashore, where several houses have been opened, 
and a villa of large extent. These, having been buried to 
no very great depth, are completely uncovered to the sun. 
There were walls, and pillars, and frescoed chambers, and 
mosaic pavements, in a wonderful state of preservation. 
There was an inn, with some of its ancient amphorce — or 
wine-jugs — still remaining ; but the vessels were empty, 
and barkeeper and landlord and guest were gone. There 
was a chapel, with its altar still standing, as if awaiting 
the victim and the priest; a prison, in whose dark cells 
skeletons were found sitting in the stocks ; and a well, 
whose marble cnrb is grooved by the chain of the bucket. 
In various places in the walls, and over the doorways and 
windows, the remains of the woodwork were visible, 
reduced to charcoal by the intense heat of the fire-torrents 
which rolled over them long after the original deluge of 
mud and ashes. There is a flower-garden within the 
enclosure of the villa, not quite so well kept as it was by 



THE BUKIED CITIES. 153 

its ancient proprietor ; and we plucked roses, and wall- 
flowers, and sweet-scented violets from amid the ruins. 

From Herculaneum we 'drove to Pompeii. The dis- 
tance is about seven miles, perhaps fourteen from Naples. 
Our road lay along" the margin of the bay, at the base of 
Mount Vesuvius, crossing numerous beds of lava, poured 
out at different periods, running in vast ridges down the 
mountain-side, and here and there jutting far out into the 
sea. We passed through Torre del Greco and Torre del 
Annonciata— towns, each of about fifteen thousand in- 
habitants. They have both been several times destroyed 
by eruptions, evidences of which are everywhere apparent. 
Many of the present houses are built upon the lava which 
buried the old ; and others, which were not entirely 
covered, were so surrounded by the rolling mass, that they 
are now entered at the second story^ and the way into one 
of the churches is through the great window over the 
ancient door. It was a festa day, and the air w r as musical 
with the voice of bells ; and men, women, and children 
thronged the streets, the neat and gaily-dressed mingling 
with the ragged and filthy rabble that swarm in all 
Italian towns ; and the places of worship were so thronged, 
that the kneeling crowds overflowed at the portals, and 
down the broad steps into the public ways ; for there were 
relics to be shown ! 

Reaching the little inn at Pompeii, w r e took a hasty 
luncheon : and then one of the government guides con- 
ducted us through the ' Sea Gate ? into the silent city. It 
was with a feeling like that which one experiences on 
entering a vast cemetery by moonlight, that I first looked 
along the deserted streets, and the walls of palaces and 
temples, parched by volcanic fire — a pale ghost of the 
mighty past — a dead city, untimely disinterred from its 
ashy sepulchre ! Pompeii was destroyed not by a stream 
of lava, or a deluge of mud, but by showers of ashes and 
pumice-stone, the loose nature of which rendered its ex- 
cavation comparatively an easy work ; and many of its 
streets and forums, dwellings and theatres, laid entirely 
open to the day, sun themselves amid vineyards and 
flowery fields — a pleasant contrast to the darkly-buried 
Herculaneum. 



154 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

The largest temple, and the first shown us, was that of 
Venus. It consists of an area paved with marble, sur- 
rounded by a portico, and having at one end a raised 
platform, with an altar upon it, and rooms in the rear for 
the priests. Near this is a spacious forum, also paved 
with marble, and showing the bases of several statues. At 
its northern end is the temple of Jupiter, raised upon a 
lofty basement, having a portico of Corinthian pillars, 
some small chambers at one extremity, and part of a 
staircase that led to an upper story. Then we came to 
the temple of Augustus, called also the Pantheon, in 
which was found the statue of Augustus, with the statues 
of Livia and her son Drusus, now in the Neapolitan 
Museum. It was built around an atrium or court, in the 
midst of which are twelve pedestals arranged in a circle, 
and believed to have sustained the statues of twelve 
divinities, and on the south side are twelve small chambers 
for the twelve priests. 

We passed through a long street, sometimes called ' the 
Street of Abundance,' from a statue of that goddess which 
was found at one end of it ; and sometimes ' the Street of 
the Silversmiths,' from the quantities of jewelry dis- 
covered in its houses. The buildings are nearly all of the 
same size and form, and painted in the same manner. 
They were chiefly of one story, built around an open 
court. The apartments, especially the sleeping-rooms, 
were very small. Some of the frescoes and mosaics were 
beautiful, and in a good state of preservation. In this 
street are several large fountains or reservoirs, evidently 
intended for public use. At one end of it was found a 
skeleton with a sack, containing a large number of silver 
coins, with some of bronze and gold. 

The theatre, which was found entire, lies fairly open to 
the day ; but its statues and other ornaments have all been 
removed to the metropolis. It stood on the slope of the 
hill facing the bay, the stage and the orchestra being at 
the foot, and the seats rising in semicircular ranges up 
the acclivity. The seats were divided and numbered, and 
it is calculated that five thousand people could have found 
accommodation there. It was well furnished with means 
of ingress and of egress ; and as it was without a roof, there 



THE BURIED CITIES. 155 

was no want of ventilation ; and the audience might 
enjoy a glorious view of the outspread waters before them, 
with Stabise and Surrentum beyond, and the mountain 
heights of the promontory, while they sat witnessing the 
play. 

We now passed through several streets, visiting nu- 
merous shops and dwellings, some of them quite remark- 
able for their contents and decorations. There were 
stores for wine and oil, with the great earthen vessels still 
standing in which those things were kept. There were 
restaurants and baker-shops, with ovens and flour-mills 
exactly like those now used in Naples and Rome. There 
was the custom-house, where weights and measures were 
found, and a great pair of scales. There was a basilica, 
with a raised tribune for the judges, and dungeons beneath 
for criminals. There were the barracks, with the names 
and jests of the soldiers scribbled on the walls, as fresh as 
if it had been done but yesterday. There were the 
public baths, with all the appurtenances of such an institu- 
tion complete, and separate apartments for hot water and 
cold. Men evidently shaved in those days, for there was 
the barber-shop, though its occupant appeared to have 
stepped out for a moment or two. Two houses, standing 
side by side, were remarkable for their beautiful fountains, 
with large semicircular niches fronting the atriums, and 
elaborately ornamented with mosaics, shell-work, bas- 
reliefs, and statuary. In many of these places, when they 
were opened, skeletons were discovered, with coins of 
various metals, and quantities of gems and gold. 

The Yia Appia runs through the centre of the city. 
It is rather narrow, but has side walks three feet wide, 
and elevated about twenty inches above the central pave- 
ment. The stones are worn into deep ruts by the wheels, 
about four feet apart ; showing that the carriages of the 
Pompeians were much narrower than ours, and that they 
generally kept the same line. We passed through this 
street, leaving the city at the ' Porta Herculanea.' Here 
was found the skeleton of a soldier who was on guard 
when the fiery tempest came down, and here he had 
stood at his post nearly two thousand years. Some dis- 
tance without the gate, on the Street of Tombs, is the 



156 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

superb villa of Diomede — the largest and finest .establish- 
ment hitherto discovered, and which has furnished more 
than any other of the curiosities and works of art now in 
the museum at Naples. Close by the garden gate were 
found the skeletons of the master and an attendant — the 
one grasping a key, the other a purse of gold. In the 
vaulted basement, whither the household seem chiefly to 
have fled for shelter, seventeen skeletons were discovered, 
principally of women and children ; and on the side of 
one of the subterranean passages is still to be seen, as 
distinct as if painted there, the outline of the nurse's form, 
with an infant in her arms. 

But what avail such details ? The reader must see and 
survey these ruins for himself. He must walk these silent 
streets, and enter these tenantless houses, before he is 
prepared to appreciate any description of them from 
another. We spent four or five hours here, but needed as 
many days. As we wandered about, it seemed difficult to 
realize that Pompeii had been hidden under ground for 
so many centuries ; and at every corner I almost ex- 
pected to see some old Roman patrician sweep by in his 
toga, or hear the children chattering Latin to one another 
in their sports. But all around is silence — the silence not 
of solitude and repose, but of devastation and death — 
the silence of a great city without a single inhabitant, 
and there, hanging its white signal-vapour in the sapphire 
sky, stands the destroyer, looking down upon the destroyed ! 



( 157 ) 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SOKRENTINE PROMONTOKY. 

Nocera — La Cava — Beautiful Scenery — The Convent — Charming- 
Drive — Amalfi — Its History — Beggars and Begging — Wild Night- 
scene — Monte Sant Angelo — Courage, Maccaroni, and Cheese — 
Glorious Prospect — Castellamare — Plan of Sorrento — The Town 
and its Antiquities — Poetic Curiosity. 

Know ye the land of the cypress and vine, 

Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine ; 

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume, 

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gull* in their bloom; 

Where the citron and orange are fairest of fruit, 

And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; 

Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, 

In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, 

And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye ; 

Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 

And all but the spirit of man is divine ? 

Bkide of Abtdos. 

We had communed with the ghost of antiquity in the dark 
vaults of Herculaneum. We had wandered many hours 
through the silent streets of Pompeii, amid ruined palaces 
and theatres, forums and temples, baths and tombs. To 
this dreary and deathlike solitude, the bustle of a railway 
station and the rapid motion of the train afforded a refresh- 
ing contrast ; and as we rushed past villa and vineyard up 
the sweet valley of the Sarno, it was delightful to find our- 
selves once more surrounded by the realities of the living 
world. 

A visit to Pestum, the brief time we had allotted ourselves 
would not allow us to enjoy ; but we determined to see all 
we could of Southern Italy, especially of the classical locali- 
ties and incomparable scenery of the Salernian and Sorren- 
tine coasts. It was nearly sunset when we left the little inn 
at Pompeii ; and before we reached the railroad terminus at 
Nocera, the gray evening had mantled the plain, and hung 
a soft veil over the mountains. It was a festa day in honour 

* The rose. 



158 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of some one or other of the saints, and had been worthily- 
kept by the agents and drivers of the various public vehicles. 
Powerfully wrought the spirit that was in them, and bravely 
did they contend for the privilege of conveying us to La 
Cava. The Italians always talk louder than any other peo- 
ple, and an extra glass amazingly augments their vocal 
powers. They surrounded us like a pack of hungry wolves, 
yelling like panthers, and fighting like tigers. The ladies 
were not a little frightened, and I know not what would have 
been the result, had not a stalwart policeman come in good 
time to our rescue. He stalked in among the rabble like a 
Hercules, smiting right and left with his ponderous mace. 
A peace was soon conquered, and through the imperfect 
Italian of Mr. Hall — the standing spokesman of our party— 
we were enabled to bargain for a ride to La Cava. Six car- 
lini, without ' buona mano,' was the stipulation, thrice 
repeated. Away we went, as if flying from the wrath of 
Vesuvius. Our carriage was as crazy as the drunken driver, 
yet it would have tried the railroad locomotive to keep our 
company. Half an hour's race, and we were at our hotel ; 
but here occurred a scene demanding the pen of a Dickens. 
Mr. Hall offers veturino his fee — veturino starts back in 
astonishment — insists on a piastre, with buona mano — is re- 
minded of the contract — declares it is too little — will have 
more or none — dashes the money upon the pavement — raves 
— threatens — curses the foreigners — is suddenly left to his 
own reflections — quietly picks up the discarded coin, mounts 
his box in the most exemplary manner, and manifestly molto 
contento drives away. Such is a specimen of the scenes we 
witnessed almost every day in Italy. An Italian is never 
satisfied with what he receives, though it be all he at first 
demanded, and twice the worth of the service rendered, so 
long as he deems it possible to get an additional grano. 

We had a comfortable supper, and a refreshing sleep. 
When we rose in the morning, we found ourselves in a 
charming villa, surrounded with a luxuriant lemon grove. 
The scenery was altogether of a different character from any 
we had seen before. Behind us towered the majestic Fenes- 
tra, far into the turquoise firmament ; while before us many 
an isolated cone shot up from the loveliest of valleys, clothed 
with forests of oak and chestnut, and crowned with grand 



THE SORREXTIXE PROMOXTORY. 159 

old ruins. These were the scenes that inspired the genius 
and formed the taste of Salvator Rosa. 

La Cava seems to be a thriving little town, but claims no 
classical antiquity. It dates from the invasion of Genseric, 
and was formed gradually by the attraction of a rich Bene- 
dictine abbey. When the neighbouring town of Marciana 
was destroyed, its dispersed inhabitants took shelter in the 
mountains, settled around the monastery, and subsequently 
built La Cava. The convent is beautifully situated on a 
lofty sandstone cliff, and is approached by a steep winding 
path through a shady copse. A stream brawls below, which 
the fratti have widened into a small lake under the very 
walls, where fish are fattened for the frying-pan. In a deep 
recess of the chapel lies the body of Alpherius, the first 
abbot, whom the inscription on his tomb declares to have 
died at the ' good old age ' of a hundred and twenty years. 
Here is one of the finest organs in Italy, containing, they 
say, six thousand pipes ; a number which appears incredible ! 
But what of Nocera? The dusty evening, and the civil 
war that raged around us, allowed us to see but little of it ; 
we saw, however, that it was without walls, and scattered 
over an extensive area — more like an American town than 
an Italian. It is a place of great antiquity, remarkable for 
its constant loyalty to Rome, and the misfortunes which 
have befallen it in consequence of that loyalty — first, the 
vengeance of Hannibal, by whom it was sacked and de- 
stroyed ; afterwards, the fury of Ruggiero, king of Naples, 
who razed its walls to the ground, and dispersed its citizens 
over the campagna. It is still called Nocera dei Pagani — 
Nocera of the Pagans — from the circumstance of its having 
been once a long time in possession of the Saracens. Judg- 
ing from that evening's demonstration of its character, the 
appellation seems quite appropriate ; yet not more so, per- 
haps, than to most other towns of Southern Italy. Mrs. 
Eaton, in her work on Rome, observes, that artistic repre- 
sentations of God in the churches are less frequent than 
those of the saints, simply because he is not so much wor- 
shipped as they. If there is no idolatry now in Italy, there 
was none in the days of Caesar or Porsenna. 

Breakfast, settlement, and vettura for Amalfi. Our road 
wound down a valley scarcely surpassed in Paradise. On 



160 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

one side the terraced mountain was covered with tropical 
fruit-groves ; and on the other, the sparsely wooded slope 
was matted with primroses and violets, among which the 
nightingales sang divinely. Shortly the valley opened upon 
the fine bay of Salerno, and Vietri at our feet overhung the 
purple waves. Here the road turns westward, over a deep 
gulf, towards the Promontory of Minerva and the Isles of the 
fabled Syrens. The mountains before us rose abruptly from 
the edge of the water ; here jutting out in a bold precipice, 
and there retiring in a wild ravine. Our road, than which 
there is no better in Italy, was cut through the solid rock, 
and followed the irregularities of the shore ; now running 
along the verge of the cliff, and then crossing a deep chasm 
upon a series of lofty arches. Towns and villages looked 
down from dizzy heights upon us as we passed, or hung 
upon the precipices beneath us, as if meditating a plunge 
into the sea. Wherever a terrace was possible, the rocky 
steeps were green with olives, or golden with lemons. The 
sky was clear as sapphire, the sea was blue as lapis lazuli, 
and at every turn in the road some new beauty broke upon 
our sight, thrilling our hearts with a strange, unwonted joy. 
Never, till all earthly impressions perish, can the memory 
of that morning be effaced from my soul. 

But here is Amalfi, with its little patch of snowy beach, 
its boats drawn up upon the sand, and its brawny fisher- 
men spreading their nets in the sun. The town lies at the 
mouth of a deep gorge in the mountains, through which a 
torrent rushes into the sea. The Hotel of the Capuchins, at 
whose base beats the Mediterranean surf, is to be our tempo- 
rary ' Alabama.' The scenery of Amalfi is famous through- 
out the world. I will attempt no description. There is 
nothing equal to it but the maccaroni which we ate for 
dinner. The article is produced here in great abundance ; 
and after visiting several of the large manufactories, we sat 
down to feast upon it with a new relish. The crypt of the 
cathedral is said to contain the body of Saint Andrew, 
brought hither from Constantinople in the thirteenth cen- 
tury. It is a grand old edifice, and has one of the most 
beautiful campaniles I have met with in Italy. The con- 
vent of the Capuccini retains its cloisters as perfect as they 
were six hundred years ago. There is a grotto hard by — 



THE SORRENTINE PROMONTORY. 161 

a stupendous vaulted chamber in the mountain-side— from 
the mouth of which the traveller gets one of the finest sea- 
ward prospects in the whole country. 

The origin of Amalfi is assigned to the fourth century. 
The legend is, that it was founded by some Roman patri- 
cians wrecked upon the coast. It afterwards became a great 
city, the capital of a flourishing republic, the first naval 
power of Europe, the Athens of the middle ages. Here, 
if tradition is to be relied upon, was born the inventor of 
the mariners' compass. Here was preserved the first known 
manuscript of the Pandects of Justinian. Here originated 
the famous order of the Hospitallers of Saint John, after- 
wards denominated the Knights of Malta. In the tenth cen- 
tury Amalfi had fifty thousand inhabitants, and its dependent 
territory a hundred thousand. In the twelfth century it 
was taken by King Roger, and sacked by the Pisans, who 
carried off, and retained three hundred years, the Pandects 
of Justinian. From this disaster Amalfi never recovered. 
The barbarians overwhelmed it with double destruction, 
and successive volcanic convulsions sank its very ruins 
beneath the sea. A solitary tower now stands upon a lofty 
rock, almost the only representative of its ancient grandeur. 
All else that the traveller sees is comparatively modern. 

As we walked about the place, we were followed by 
crowds of beggars ; and when we returned to our hotel, a 
large number of them collected upon the beach beneath 
the balcony, to whom we threw a few grani, saying : ' Be 
ye warmed, be ye filled !' I have nowhere else seen so 
many of this wretched trade, as in some of those beautiful 
localities of Southern Italy. The streets were thronged 
with them ; they pursued us into the churches, followed us 
over the mountains, and ran for miles by the side of our 
carriage, with ceaseless importunity and impassioned gesti- 
culation, pleading for qualche cosa. I never felt so forcibly 
the utter inadequacy of a passing aid. Alas ! the very 
flagrancy of the case — the undisguised fact that one-third 
of the population are starving mendicants — renders habitual 
lookers-on indifferent to their needs. What is everybody's 
business is nobody's business. The public is an abstraction, 
and does not recognize the evil though it is gnawing at the 
roots of society. The mischief is aggravated to hopeless- 

M 



162 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ness by the universal propensity for begging. The ser- 
vants beg at the hotels ; the postilions beg upon the high- 
ways ; the woman spinning at the door rises to beg as you 
approach ; the peasant labouring in the field drops his hoe, 
and runs to beg, as you pass ; even the infant in its mother's 
arms, before it can utter its mother's name, learns to stretch 
out its little hand, and twist up its face into a petition, when- 
ever it sees a foreigner. The genial warmth of the climate, 
and the comparative cheapness of food, more, perhaps, than 
the perpetual influx of tourists, tend to encourage this ruin- 
ous proclivity, whose fruit is emaciation, and indolence, and 
disease, and rags. The King of Naples sees and knows it 
all ; but are not the people his ? and has he not a right to 
drain their money into his lotteries ? and does he not need 
the revenue to pay the soldiers that are hired to keep them 
in order ? 

Night fell over the waters. The sirocco, which had been 
blowing gently during the day, rose to the majesty of a 
tempest, Amid the gusty winds, the rain fell pattering 
against the window, and the surf beat heavily upon the 
shore. Through the roar of the storm we heard the faint 
accents of a single voice, apparently calling for help. Soon 
there were torches gleaming along the strand, and other 
voices rose upon the wind. Then a bonfire was kindled, 
in the broad glare of which we saw a motley crowd of both 
sexes ; while out upon the dark waters was discerned the 
dim outline of a fishing-boat, with several men in it, toiling 
to effect a landing. Two or three heroic fellows, stark 
naked, with ropes fastened around their waists, were endea- 
vouring to force their way through the boiling surf. 
Several unsuccessful attempts were made, apparently with 
great danger, and amidst a mighty clamour of voices. At 
last the object was gained, a rope was carried to the boat, 
all hands on shore laid hold upon it, and with shouts of 
triumph drew their comrades far up upon the sand. It 
was a wild scene, and a worthy close to a day spent amid 
the most beautiful scenery in the world. 

One of the most prominent and picturesque objects in- 
cluded in a southward view from Naples is the Isle of 
Capri, lying about four miles from the point of the Sorren- 
tine Promontory. To visit its far-famed Blue Grotto, and 



THE SORRENTINE PROMONTORY. 163 

see what remains of the baths and aqueducts of Augustus, 
and the Twelve Palaces of the Twelve Superior Divinities 
built by ' that deified beast Tiberius/ constituted one of the 
chief pleasures we had promised ourselves in a southern 
excursion. But after waiting twenty-four hours at Amalfi 
for permission of the winds and waves, the sirocco still 
blew, and the troubled sea could not rest. Thwarted in 
one plan, we were not long in projecting another. With 
an agreeable accession of three Englishmen to our party, 
and half a dozen Italians for an escort, making about 
fifteen in all, we set forth on donkey -back, across Monte 
Sant' Angelo, to the northern side of the promontory. The 
distance may be twenty miles ; the mountain is the loftiest 
on the Bay of Naples ; and the scenery along our path, of 
the most varied and romantic character. 

For two full hours we climbed the rugged steep, chiefly 
by steps cut in the solid limestone ; often winding along 
the brink of the precipice, with a frightful gulf a thousand 
feet below ; and occasionally obliged to dismount, and 
clamber up the rocks upon our hands and knees. At 
length we reached the first table-land, occupied by a 
picturesque village, three thousand feet above the beach of 
Amalfi. Here our cunning escort desired to rest thirty 
minutes, and refresh themselves at an osteria, doubtless at 
our expense; but the Monte Sant' Angelo still towered 
before us two thousand feet above the village, and we 
promptly negatived the proposal. Yet we could not help 
pausing a few moments to admire the glorious view behind 
us. There rolled the white surf three thousand feet 
beneath; and green vineyards and yellow orchards, inter- 
spersed with modern towns and ancient ruins, hung like a 
jewelled wreath along the terraced rocks. And there sat 
Salerno, like a little Naples, nestling in the curve of a 
charming bay, with its mountain-amphitheatre in the back- 
ground ; while in the dim distance beyond were faintly 
seen the temples of Pestum, and the mountains towards 
Calabria, and the fair Lucanian coast. And there stood 
the myrtle-crowned Promontorium Minervse ; where, 
according to Seneca and Strabo, Ulysses erected a temple 
to the goddess; where, in the sixteenth century, Charles 
the Fifth built a martello tower to warn the inhabitants of 



1G4 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

approaching* clanger ; and where the last King of Naples 
reared a lighthouse, which still gleams nightly over the 
waters. And there rose the three rocky islands, now 
called the Galli, inhabited only by seafowl, and beaten by 
the eternal surf; where, as classic fable tells us, the Syrens 
lured their victims to destruction by the very sweetness of 
their songs ; where, as authentic history assures us, wan- 
dered the banished tyrant of Amalfi — Doge Mansone the 
third — after his brother had deprived him of his eyes ; and 
where, during the middle ages, many a criminal felt the re- 
publican vengeance, and expiated his offences by a dreary 
exile and a lingering death. 

We resume our course, and for two hours more toil up 
the mountain. It was not a little amusing to hear one of 
our English friends cheering on his jaded donkey, with the 
small stock of Italian which he had acquired, and manufac- 
tured into a couplet for the occasion : 

1 Corragio — Corragio ! 
Maccheroni e fromagio !' 

Some of the company seemed quite exhausted before we 
reached the summit ; but once there, what a prospect re- 
warded the toil ! The bay lay spread out before us, bathed 
in as pure a light as ever fell from heaven ; and its semi- 
circular coast, for fifty miles a string of towns and villages, 
interspersed with groves and gardens, seemed a colossal 
necklace of alternate emeralds and pearls, with Capri and 
Ischia for its golden clasps at the two extremities, and 
Naples and Vesuvius (the one a huge diamond, and the 
other a monster amethyst) for its central ornaments. 
Beyond this stretched the vast Campagna, with its boun- 
dary wall of Apennines — ■ 

* The masonry of God !' 

As we descended the mountain, pausing and gazing 
again and again upon the goodly prospect, my soul, with 
unspeakable satisfaction, drank in full draughts of beauty. 
We passed two or three villages, picturesquely situated on 
the flanks of Sanf Angelo, with churches perched upon the 
most inaccessible heights, and old castles and towers crum- 
bling on the cliffs. It was amid these lofty solitudes that 



THE SORRENTINE PROMONTORY. 165 

Salvator Rosa dwelt a long time with the brigands, enjoy- 
ing their protection while he pursued his art. At the 
foot of the mountain we entered Gragnano — the city of 
maccaroni. There are no less than seven ty-five large 
manufactories of this Italian indispensable in the town. 
Everywhere the yellow fringe hung on poles and lines 
along the streets. We breathed maccaroni ; and the very 
houses, as we looked into them, seemed built of that 
material. 

Two miles farther we came to Castellamare. Stabise, 
which once flourished here, was destroyed by Sylla. In 
Pliny's time the place was occupied by the villas of several 
Roman patricians, attracted hither by the fame of its mine- 
ral waters, and by its salubrious climate. Pomponianus 
was sojourning or residing here when the first great eruption 
of Vesuvius occurred, in the year 79. The elder Pliny, 
then in charge of the Roman fleet lying at Misenuin, came 
in a galley to aid his friend's escape. Such, however, 
was the darkness, and such the agitation of the water, that 
they dared not put to sea. With pillows upon their heads, 
to protect them from the falling stones, they retired along 
the shore. Fire and vapour frequently burst up from the 
ground around them ; and Pliny, as his nephew supposes, 
was suffocated by one of these eruptions. The ruins of an- 
cient Stabise are still seen, though many of its remains are 
sunk under the sea. Castellamare was sacked in the fif- 
teenth century by Pius the Second, and again in the seven- 
teenth by the Due de Guise. It is now a flourishing town, 
and a popular summer resort of the Neapolitans, and of 
invalid forestieri ; who come hither for its incomparable 
climate, and its twelve medicinal springs. 

At this place we discharged our donkeys and escort ; and 
after the usual quarrel about huona mano, engaged a vettura 
for a piastre to take us to Sorrento. The distance is nine 
miles ; and the road, which is an exceedingly fine one, runs 
along the brink of the precipice, several hundred feet above 
the sea ; crossing the ravines on tiers of lofty arches, and 
winding in and out with the indentations and projections of 
the shore. Passing several small villages, we reached an 
elevated terrace, on the point of a small promontory, over- 
looking the Piano di Sorrento. It is a broad table-land, 



166 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

bounded on one side by the Bay of Naples, and on the 
three others by precipitous mountains, separated from it by 
a deep and narrow ravine. It is evident from the form of 
the surrounding" hills, and from the nature of the soil, that 
its entire area is the bed of an ancient crater. I have never 
seen anything comparable to it in fertility. Orange and 
lemon trees, loaded with golden fruit, overhang the road ; 
the fig-tree stretches out its crooked arms at the height of 
fifty or sixty feet ; the gray olive soars upwards like a 
cypress, overshadowing the tallest dwellings ; while the 
grape-vine, interlacing the lofty branches, or hanging in 
festoons from tree to tree, runs riot over all. We drove 
into the town, and found a pleasant home at the Villa 
Nardi, embosomed in a dense grove of lemon, and orange, 
and pomegranate, on the very brink of the bay, whose 
waters chafe the base of the precipice three hundred feet 
below the walls. 

As soon as we could the next morning, we went forth on 
an exploring expedition among the antiquities of Surren- 
tam. The ancient aqueduct, repaired by Antoninus Pius, 
still supplies the people with water from the mountains, 
and is remarkable for the musical echo of its vaults. With 
this exception, there are very few remains of the former 
city — a few arches, and grottoes, and massive substructions, 
which they call the Temple of Neptune, the Temple of 
Ceres, the Temple of the Syrens, the Caves of Ulysses, the 
villa of Pollius Felix, the shattered walls of some nameless 
baths, and the mouldering corridors of a supposed amphi- 
theatre. This was the native city of Torquato Tasso, and 
the house in which he was born is still standing, and occu- 
pied as an albergo. In a small piazza near the middle of 
the town, we met with a curious relic of Egyptian art — 
a headless kneeling statue of black marble, dating from the 
reign of Sethos, the father of Ramses the Second, more 
than fifteen centuries before the birth of Christ. Capo di 
Sorrento — a small promontory just west of the city — is 
covered with Roman remains ; foundation walls of large 
stone, and reticulated brick-work ; ruined chambers, with 
relics of faded frescoes and broken mosaics ; — extending 
over a large area, and visible beneath the transparent 
waves. In our walk we met men and women carrying 



THE SORRENTINE PROMONTORY. 167 

large baskets of lemons and oranges upon their heads, and 
saw great heaps of the golden fruit in storehouses, awaiting 
exportation. The streets are narrow and dirty, and the 
inhabitants much like those of La Cava and Amalfi ; yet 
Sorrento seems to be almost as much frequented now, as 
when the Eonian patricians had their villas here, and 
Antoninus and Augustus came to inhale new health from 
its balmy climate. 

One of the greatest curiosities we saw at Sorrento was a 
piece of poetry, engraved on a slab of marble inserted in 
the outer wall of a church. The lines began and ended 
alternately with the words croce and cuore. The following 
is, as nearly as possible, with the preservation of the 
measure and peculiar form of the original, a literal trans- 
lation : 

Cross, most adored ! to thee I give my heart : 
Heart I have not, except to love the cross. 
Cross, thou hast won my wayward, alien heart : 
Heart, thou hast owned the triumph of the cross. 
Cross, tree of life ! to thee I nail my heart : 
Heart cannot live, that lives not on the cross. 
Cross, be thy blood the cleansing of my heart : 
Heart, be thy blood an offering to the cross. 
Cross, thou shalt have the homage of my heart : 
Heart, thou shalt be the temple of the cross. 
Cross, blest is he who yields to thee his heart : 
Heart, rest secure, who cleavest to the cross. 
Cross, key of heaven, open every heart : 
Heart, every heart, receive the holy cross, 



( 163 ) 



CHAPTER XVII. 

A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 

Punta di Posilipo — Bagnoli — Nisida — Pozzuoli — Monte Nuovo — 
Lago d'Averno — View from the Cliff— Cumse — Baise — Pronion- 
torium Misenum — The Solfatara — Lago d'Agnano — Grotta del 
Cane — Fuorigrotta — Frightful AssauhV—Caserta — Capua — Adieu 
to Naples. 

The road from Naples, around the Punta di Posilipo, to 
Bagnoli, and thence along the coast to Pozzuoli and the 
classical localities of Baice and the Misenian Promontory, 
is full of interest to one who has an eye for the beautiful, or 
any reverence for antiquity. "Who will not pause a moment 
as he passes the little church of Santa Maria, when he 
learns that it occupies the probable site of the ancient 
Pharos ? The shore beyond is everywhere lined with ruins 
of Roman villas, of tombs and temples, baths and theatres. 
The tufa hills are pierced with tunnels and canals, which 
date from the days of the Emperors. The headlands and 
islands are covered with massive fragments of reticulated 
masonry. You ride over broken marbles, and prostrate 
columns look up to you from beneath the translucent waters. 
Parts of this coast seem to have sunk, submerging the 
relics of imperial grandeur in the sea ; while other por- 
tions, especially those farther westward, have been elevated 
fifteen or twenty feet above their ancient level ; an effect 
nowise to be wondered at, when we recollect the frequent 
volcanic convulsions of this whole district in the twelfth 
and sixteenth centuries. 

Here is a miserable hamlet, called Bagnoli, the first we 
reach upon this classic coast. It consists of only three or 
four houses, with two warm mineral springs. This was the 
birthplace of Sebastiano Bartolo, the reputed inventor of 
the thermometer. The grand villa of Vedius Pollio was 
situated here ; and you may still see the artificial ponds, 
built of brick, and faced with pozzolana, where, according 



A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 169 

to Dion and Seneca, he fed his immense eels with human 
flesh. During a feast which he gave to Augustus, a slave 
accidentally broke a valuable glass, for which his master 
ordered him to be thrown to his fishes; but the emperor 
arrested the inhuman mandate, and directed all the glass 
vessels of the villa to be cast into the ponds instead of the 
slave. 

That, bluff island, standing like a tower in the sea, now 
called Nisita, is the ancient Nisida. Thither Brutus fled 
after the assassination of Caesar. There he parted with his 
faithful Porcia, when he sailed for Greece. There Cicero 
conferred with Pompey, and wrote several of his letters to 
Atticus. There Lucullus had a princely villa, the ruins of 
which form the foundations of a lazzaretto and a prison. 

Our next point, and the only town on the Bay of Baice, 
is Pozzuoli, the ancient Pideoli^ where Paul tarried a 
week on his way to Rome. The modern inhabitants, how- 
ever, seem to think much more of San Genaro than of 
Paul. He is their patron god. It is a most filthy and 
miserable place ; and the people look as if they might all 
be bought for a piastre apiece ; and at half that price the 
purchaser would probably make a bad bargain. It was 
anciently, however, a town of considerable commerce, a 
favourite resort of the Roman patricians and emperors; 
and Cicero, in one of his orations, describes it as ' a little 
Rome.' This was the scene of the last debaucheries and 
miserable death of Sylla. There is little now to be seen of 
its architectural glory. What Alaric and Geuseric left, 
was shaken to pieces by earthquakes, and the very frag- 
ments submerged in the encroaching sea. When par- 
tially restored, it was again spoiled by the Saracens and 
the Turks, and overwhelmed with volcanic scoria. There 
are two statues here, as old as the time of the Caesars; 
albeit, one of them has lost his ancient head, and w r ears a 
modern substitute. Here also are the broken columns of 
the beautiful temple of Jupiter Serapis, which was one of 
the very finest in Italy, and perhaps more richly adorned 
with marbles and mosaics than any other of its age. And 
here are the massive Temple of ISeptune, and the Temple 
of the Nymphs, both submarine at present ; a temple to 
Juno, another to Diana, another to Antinous, all doubly 



170 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ruined ; one to Augustus, partially preserved, extensively 
repaired, and transformed into a cathedral ; a noble amphi- 
theatre, with baths, reservoirs, aqueducts, mouldering 
tombs, and many nameless ruins, which the antiquary 
labours in vain to identify. A little beyond the town, 
beaten by the everlasting surf, are the remains of Cicero's 
Puteolan Villa, which he dignified with the name of 
Accidentia, and esteemed so highly for its delightful pro- 
menade along the shore — the place of Hadrian's burial, 
whence he was subsequently removed to his grand mauso- 
leum at Rome, the present Castel Sanf Angelo. 

Immediately on the coast, a mile and a half west of 
Pozzuoli, is Monte Nuovo, thrown up by volcanic force in 
1538. The eruption was preceded by violent convulsions, 
which upheaved the whole coast, and drove the sea ' two 
hundred paces 9 within its ancient boundary. These were 
succeeded by a dense volume of smoke and steam. Then 
followed enormous jets of hot water and black mud, which 
fell in a destructive deluge. Next, the new crater, with 
tremendous explosive noises, cast up immense masses of red 
hot pumice, amid a cloud of fiery ashes. Some of the 
stones, which are described by two eye-witnesses as being 
i larger than an ox,' were hurled a mile and a half high, 
and then fell back into the glowing orifice. The ashes 
covered the surrounding country, and were carried one 
hundred and fifty miles by the wind. Birds fell dead upon 
the field, suffocated by the noxious gases ; and many men 
and animals, in the immediate neighbourhood of the vol- 
cano, were killed by the falling pumice. The eruption 
lasted only three days, but during its continuance it formed 
a mountain nearly two miles in circumference, and four 
hundred and fifty feet in altitude. As soon as it ceased, 
Toledo ascended the mountain, and found a circular crater, 
full of liquid fire, in which the stones that had fallen were 
boiling up as in a great caldron of melted metal. Since 
that the mountain has remained quiescent, and is now over- 
grown with trees and brushwood. The crater is a cavity, 
with steep walls, a quarter of a mile in circumference, and 
nearly as deep as the bottom of the mountain. 

A little farther west is the Lago d'Averno. Here is the 
Sibyl's Bath, still warm and comfortable, in a dismal grotto, 



A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 171 

within a deeply wooded glen. It is here .iEneas is first in- 
troduced to the prophetess, and conducted down into the 
realm of spirits. Reader, have you the curiosity or the 
courage to follow him ? Passing the outer grotto, we enter 
a dark avenue, winding under low arches. Here a stout 
Italian, in stockings such as Adam wore in Eden, takes you 
upon his back, and bears you through the tepid water into 
a gloomy chamber. The smoke of the torches, however, 
which are necessary to make the darkness visible, is not 
very agreeable to weak lungs and tender eyes. I think 
-ZEneas, with all the superstition of his time, must have 
been something of a hero. And did the Carthaginian 
general descend into this dismal hole to sacrifice to Pluto ? 
It is scarcely to be supposed that the Sibyl herself dwelt 
perpetually in this pitchy night. Here is an ancient pas- 
sage, now closed up by a mass of fallen rock, which no 
doubt led to better apartments. Very likely the cunning 
sorceress had subterranean galleries known only to herself 
and a few interested persons. There appears at least to 
have been an underground communication with Cumse on 
the north, and Lake Lucrinus on the south. Her palace, 
if such it was, on the heights above us, is now occupied as 
a stable ; and if you go there to consult the oracle, you 
will probably get a response from a calf, a goat, or a don- 
key. Agrippa felled the surrounding forest, and cut a 
canal from Avernus to the Lucrine, and another thence to 
the Bay of Baise ; by which means the waters of the lakes 
were reduced to the level of the sea, and a spacious har- 
bour formed for the Roman fleet. The eruption of Monte 
Nuovo filled up this canal, and half the Lucrine ; and 
where the ships of Agrippa once rode at anchor is now a 
dank copse of myrtles, and a marsh overgrown with reeds, 
and tenanted by innumerable wild ducks. 

From the hill above Avernus & fine view is obtained of 
the queenly Cumas on its ' sea-girt cliffs ;' once immensely 
rich, and deemed impregnable ; now a mass of undis- 
tinguishable ruins. The Arco Felice was probably the 
gate on this side ; and a few columns, half buried in the 
soil, possibly belonged to the temple of Apollo. There 
the valiant Xenocrita won her immortality ; and Sempro- 
nius Tiberius Gracchus bravely repelled the attack of 



172 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Hannibal ; and Tarquinius Super-bus, expelled from his 
throne, lived and died in exile. Beyond is Lago di Licolo, 
by which Nero would have connected the Avernus with 
the distant Tiber; and farther north, the Sacred Grove, 
celebrated for its nocturnal sacrifices, and for the treachery 
and subsequent massacre of the Campanians ; and still 
farther, the Lago di Patria, with its solitary tower, 
marking the site of Liternum, the scene of the voluntary 
exile and melancholy end of Scipio Africanus. On the 
other hand, towards the south-west are the remains of 
Cicero's Cumcean Villa among the hills, where the orator 
received the young Octavius — the future Emperor Augus- 
tus — on his return from school in Macedonia. No traces 
are found of the villas of Varro and Seneca ; but here 
are the ruins of that of Servilius Vatia, to which he 
retired from the perils of public life during the reign of 
Nero. And here is Virgil's Acheron, now called Lago di 
Fusaro, surrounded with antique funereal monuments, and 
abounding in what is better — the finest oysters in Italy. 
You will find a Charon ready to ferry you, soul and body, 
over the flood ; and a pretty casino beyond, where you 
may dine on fish which you select while swimming about 
in their native element; and the accompaniment of mac- 
caroni and genuine Falernian, added to the bi valvular 
testacea aforesaid, will furnish you a fare by no means 
despicable. 

Nothing could be more beautiful than the approach to 
Baise from the Lucrine Lake. The shore is crowded with 
instructive ruins ; and masses of crumbling masonry, broken 
columns and cornices, elaborate mosaic pavements, and frag- 
ments of precious marbles, cover the hills to their summits. 
There towers the castle of Toledo over the beach, and here 
a finely paved street is visible beneath the waves. The 
palaces of Caesar and Lentulus have perished ; but the 
Picina Mirahilis, built to water the Roman fleet at 
Misenum, still remains as perfect as when it was first 
constructed. Here are the hot baths of Nero, where you 
can get an egg boiled for a car Una. The Via Herculea 
may still be traced by the eye ; but the giant could not 
travel it now without wading in several feet of water. 
Among these shattered heaps, could they be identified, we 



A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 173 

might find fragments of the villa of Cornelia, daughter of 
Scipio Africanus, and mother of the Gracchi; where, like 
her noble father at Liternum, she ended her days in volun- 
tary exile ; also of that in which Octavia resided after the 
death of Marc Antony, and her son Marcellus died ; and 
that in which Tiberius was suffocated by the captain of 
his Pretorians, and Nero planned the murder of his 
mother • and that in which Piso listened to the conspira- 
tors against the tyrant, and afterwards avoided the impe- 
rial vengeance by suicide. The port of Misenum, where 
Augustus, Anthony, and the younger Pompey held their 
conference, is now the Mare Morto, and well deserves its 
name. Virgil's Amplum Elysium is a richly cultivated 
plain, covered with vineyards and gardens ; and the road 
which runs through it is lined with ancient tombs. The 
Monte di Procida is a noble headland, and the Promonto- 
rium Misenum rises like a pyramid from the margin of the 
sea. On its southern side is the Grotta Dragonara, a long 
and intricate subterranean passage, containing five galleries, 
with a vaulted -roof resting on twelve pilasters, of which 
the origin and the use are not yet determined by the anti- 
quaries. It is here that Virgil drowns the trumpeter of 
iEneas by the agency of a triton. This whole region is 
now a vast solitude, presenting a perfect contrast to its 
appearance in the days of imperial Rome, when Puteoli 
was the Saratoga of the luxurious Italians, and Baiai was 
their Baden-Baden. Hither in those days resorted the 
wealth, the pride, and the beauty of the Eternal City ; wit, 
genius, eloquence, and philosophy followed ; and to popu- 
larity succeeded profligacy, and infamy, and ruin ! 

Just behind Pozzitoli is the old volcano, called the Sol- 
fatara. The earth is everywhere full of sulphur, and jets 
of sulphurous vapour rise from a thousand crevices. And 
here is the evident bed of the ancient crater, with the 
opening in its south-eastern wall, whence flowed the fiery 
steam into the sea at the end of the twelfth century. 
It is a level area now, surrounded by broken hills, and 
overgrown with myrtle, and arbutos, and the white-belled 
heather. There is a place which emits a respectable volume 
of smoke, with a deep murmuring sound, when Vesuvius is 
clear and quiet ; but all this ceases as soon as the old fire- 



174 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

king resumes his action. In a neighbouring ravine one 
hears a noise, as of boiling water, in the hollow caverns of 
the mountain ; and a little farther down, a torrent, at 
boiling heat, is actually gushing from a chasm in the rock. 
The ground is hot, and resounds to the tread ; and nume- 
rous fumeroli give out large quantities of sulphuretted 
hydrogen gas. Everything betokens an abyss of fire 
beneath. 

A short distance to the east of the Solfatara, between it 
and the heights of Posilipo, lies the beautiful Lago 
d'Agnano, a sheet of water three miles in circumference, 
occupying the crater of an extinct volcano, and covering 
the remains of a ruined villa. The lake is alive with 
various wild fowl, and surrounded with luxuriant vegeta- 
tion ; but the constant exhalation of warm vapours, im- 
pregnated with noxious gases, generates malaria, and 
renders it a dangerous resort. 

On its banks the subterranean forces play some singular 
freaks. In the Grotta del Cane torches expire as well as 
dogs, and you cannot fire a pistol within a foot of the 
bottom. The white vapour lies like a napkin extended in 
the air, about fourteen inches from the ground, supported 
by a layer of carbonic acid gas. The deadly current flows 
over the threshold like a stream, and may be traced by a 
chemical test some distance along the surface of the 
earth. The hardiest terrier will not live in it more than 
five minutes ; and a serpent, which I believe survives 
longer than any other animal that has been tried, not more 
than ten. A man standing erect is safe, for the destructive 
agent does not rise above his knees ; but if he stoops, so as 
to inhale it, he is immediately stupefied ; and if he dashes 
a handful of it up into his face, it produces a sensation like 
that of brisk soda water. The grotto was once used as a 
place of execution for criminals, who were shut up within 
its walls, and left to die of suffocation. A neighbouring 
cavern is impregnated with ammonia; in which, if an 
animal is immersed, it lives but a few seconds. 

Half a mile north of the Lago d'Agnano, overlooking 
the Phlegrean Fields, is Astroni, the most spacious and 
most perfect of all the volcanic craters in the district. Its 
rim, four miles in circuit, is entirely unbroken, except in 



A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 175 

one place, where an opening has been cut for an entrance. 
Its bottom is a beautiful park, full of stately ilexes, and 
encircled by a carriage drive. Here wild animals are 
kept for the sport of the royal household, and a high wall 
is built around to prevent their escape. In this grand 
amphitheatre Alfonso the First, in the fifteenth century, 
gave a magnificent entertainment to thirty thousand people, 
in honour of the marriage of his niece — Eleanor of Aragon 
— to the Emperor Frederick the Third. 

Returning to Naples, we pass through the village of 
Fuorigrotta, so called from its situation with reference to 
the Grotta di Posilipo. Here sleeps the poet Giacomo 
Leopardi ; and a simple monument in the porch of the 
little* church of San Vitale indicates the place of his 
repose. ; Qualche cosa, Signori! Qualche cosa, per 
carita ! Qualche cosa 9 per Vamore di Dio /' Verily, the 
whole population must be lazzaroni ; and they are all after 
us, men, women, and children ! Mount, mount, and ride 
for life ! it is the only way of escape ! But in the dismal 
Grotta they overtake us ; and ' Qualche cosa, per carita] 
with the names of ' Maria ' Santissima' and 'San GennaroJ 
and every other saint in the calendar, follow us into the 
subterranean gloom ! The few cqrlini we are able to spare 
procure us no relief. The clamour continues, and waxes 
louder as we advance, till echo makes it deafening, and 
darkness makes it terrible. But here is the daylight again, 
and we escape safe to Naples. 

Ancient Capua we have not yet seen. An hour or two 
by strada f errata will take us thither. We have another 
day to spare, and how can it be better improved ? Caserta 
lies in our way, and we shall see the most imposing of all 
the palaces of his Neapolitan Majesty. Well, here it is — a 
stupendous pile, uniting four cubes upon a square base, any 
one of which might serve as the abode of a king. The sur- 
rounding grounds are exceedingly fine, and afford views of 
most romantic beauty. Nothing could be more picturesque 
than the crumbling walls and bastions of the old Lombard 
city, whose isolated gables and . gaunt arches, on their hill 
of emerald, admit the blue sky through the rents of -ruin. 
Here is also an artificial waterfall, descending from a lofty 
ridge, over accommodating rocks, into a broad basin, full 



176 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of disporting life. This is advantageously seen from the 
entrance of the palace, through a portico which pierces its 
entire depth, several hundred feet long. Part of the old 
feudal forest is still standing, upon the height beyond the 
ancient town ; and its majestic oaks, if not the very same, 
are at least the descendants of those which flourished there 
a thousand years ago. This paradise is nearly twenty miles 
from Naples, and has long been the favourite summer resi- 
dence of the royal family. 

Farewell, Caserta ! Twenty minutes more bring us to 
the ancient city of the Vulturnum. Its modern repre- 
sentative has about twenty thousand inhabitants ; but the 
Capua so wretchedly helped by Hannibal, numbered not 
less than three hundred thousand. Her ambition was her 
ruin, and her alliance with the foe of Rome brought down 
upon her the full weight of Roman vengeance. In the 
time of her extremity, the Carthaginian proved ' a broken 
reed ;' and the conqueror, who knew no mercy, made her 
palaces a slaughterhouse. After lying a long time enslaved 
and half ruined, she found grace in the sight of the Caesars, 
and regained something of her former magnificence ; but 
the Goth, the Vandal, and the Lombard came, and Capua 
fell with her ancient conqueror. There are now to be 
traced the fragments of its walls, five or six miles in circuit ; 
with the towers of its seven gates, through which as many 
roads lead out in different directions to the Campania. 
There is the pavement of the Via Appia, lying through 
the centre of the ruins ; and the Porta Jovis, pointing to 
the site of the temple of Jupiter on Mons Tafata. But 
the most remarkable thing there is the Amphitheatre, the 
oldest perhaps in Italy, and the pattern after which all 
others were modelled. Three of its corridors are almost 
perfect, and the remains of two more are ^een beyond them. 
This place, according to Cicero, was capable of accommo- 
dating a hundred thousand spectators — more than twice 
the entire population of Charleston. 

This was our last excursion in Southern Italy. The time 
came when we must bid adieu to Naples. Never did I 
leave any other place with so much regret ; we had seen so 
many beautiful things, and still left so many interesting 
localities unvisited. We had not been to JPcestum, to 



A CLASSICAL EXCURSION. 177 

Capri, to Ischia, to Procida ; and I must depart without 
the hope of ever beholding them even in the dim distance 
again. I should like to have spent a whole week at Pom- 
peii, and to have climbed the rough scoria of Vesuvius 
daily for a month ; but time will not tarry for the traveller, 
and his money is fleeter than his moments. Bills are settled, 
baggage is on board the steamer, and a little boat is bearing 
us out into the open bay. An hour of sad, last, long, linger- 
ing looks ; and the anchor is lifted, and we are away. Fare- 
well, sweet Napolil My sojourn has been one protracted 
throb of joy, and my soul has drunk in continual streams 
of pleasure through every sense. Farewell ! never again 
shall I behold thy beautiful shores. Farewell, Posilipo! 
never again shall I enter thy ancient Grotta, or walk thy 
classic heights. And thou, dread Mountain, great Preacher 
of ' the wrath to come V lift up thy voice, and publish to 
deceivers and deceived ' the day of the Lord that shall burn 
as an oven !' but never more shall these ears hear thy 
awful prophecy, nor these feet tread the crusted surface of 
thy < lake of fire V 

Surely, no city needs less of architectural magnificence 
or internal attractions than Naples. With fewer of these, 
indeed, it would be a most desirable residence — so charm- 
ing its scenery, so balmy its atmosphere, so blue its waters, 
and so bright its sky! Before it spreads the sea, with 
bays, islands, and promontories almost worthy of Paradise ; 
behind it rise romantic hills, clothed with fruitful vine- 
yards, and ever-blooming gardens, and groves of living 
green. Every morning a gale from the Mediterranean 
brings health and refreshment on its wings, and tempers 
the fervid day to pleasure ; every evening a breeze from 
the Campania comes laden with the perfumes of flowers and 
the songs of nightingales, filling the darkness with fragrance 
and with melody ! 



N 



( 178 ) 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CRADLE AND THE THRONE OF ROME. 

The Palatine and the Domus Anrea — Present Appearance — The 
Capitol — Its Destruction — Its Kestoration — Temple of Jupiter 
— Its Influence and Utility — Present Buildings — Forum Komanum 
— Julian Forum — Augustan Forum — Forum of Nerva — Forum 
of Trajan— Fora Venalia— Temple of Peace— Flavian Amphi- 
theatre. 

A stormy night on the Mediterranean, with something 
more than our equitable share of sea-sickness, and we are 
again at Civita Vecchia the despicable ; where we are 
doomed to spend twenty-four hours, in no very neat hotel, 
at no very moderate charges. The next morning — bills 
rendu, baggage plombe, passports vise, sundry paoli paid 
to waiters, facchini, commissionaires, and custom-house 
officials, besides a dollar to the ever-needy American 
consul, and all our carlini and baiocchi to the importunate 
lazzaroni — at precisely ' past thirty minutes half nine,' as 
our Italian host most intelligibly expressed it — we were en 
route by vettura for Rome ; and about eight in the evening 
we greeted our friend, His Holiness, again in ' the Capital 
of the Christian World ; ' not Pio Nono the livery servant, 
who once upon a time, in some degree of excitement, went 
by diligence on an important errand to Gaeta ; but a very 
placid and amiable Pio Nono, who stands upon a pedestal 
in one corner of our little parlour, smiling benevolently 
upon the forestieri, and fearless of insurrection from the 
faithful. All hail, thrice reverend Rome! however im- 
poverished by the rapacity of thy priesthood, and degraded 
by the tyranny of superstition, yet consecrated by the 
memory of the good, the sepulchres of the great, and the 
struggles of the brave ! To all true souls, thou must ever 
be venerable and sacred ! An inexpressible solemnity 
reigns upon thy seven hills, and the spirits of sages, heroes, 
and martyrs hover over the wrecks of thy perished glory ! 
And now for a leisurely survey of all that is impressive in 



THE CRADLE AND THRONE OF ROME. 179 

the mouldering relies of the Rome that was ; and whatever 
is grand, gorgeous, or beautiful, in the Rome that flourishes 
upon her tomb. Let us first to the ancient nucleus, the 
Palatine and the Capitoline Hills, the cradle and the throne 
of empire. 

The humbler structures reared by Romulus gave place 
to the palace of the Caesars ; and the eminence which had 

borne a citv was found too small for the residence of a 

</ 

single man. The buildings erected by Augustus were 
enlarged and beautified by Tiberius and Caligula. Then 
came Nero with his Domus Aurea, which extended over 
the neighbouring Ccelean ; and covered the intervening 
valley. To this structure the world has never seen a 
parallel. Its rooms were lined with gold and mother-of- 
pearl, adorned with a profusion of sparkling gems. The 
ceiling of the dining-saloons was formed of ivory panels, 
so contrived as to scatter flowers and shower perfumes 
upon the guests. The principal banquetting-hall revolved 
upon itself, representing the revolutions of the firmament. 
The baths were supplied with salt water from the sea, and 
mineral water from the Aqua Alhula. In the vestibule of 
the palace stood the colossal statue of the Emperor, a 
hundred and twenty feet high. There were three porti- 
coes, each a mile in length, and supported by three rows 
of lofty pillars. The garden contained lakes and fountains, 
groves and vineyards, herds of cattle, enclosures of wild 
beasts, and clusters of buildings resembling towns. Here 
the luxurious fiend found himself ■ lodged almost like a 
man.' But he fell, and went G to his own place. 5 Ves- 
pasian and Titus demolished that part of the palace which 
extended beyond the Palatine. Domitian enlarged and 
decorated it, and Septimius Severus added the magnificent 
Septizonium. This consisted of seven porticoes, supported 
by pillars of the finest marble, and rising one above another, 
in the form of a pyramid, to a prodigious elevation. In 
consequence of its great solidity and strength, it survived 
the disasters of the city, and suffered less during the 
triumph of barbarism than most other public edifices of 
ancient Rome. Three stories remained entire at so late a 
period as the reign of Sixtus Quintus, who took its pillars 
to adorn tlie basilica of Saint Peter, and demolished the 



180 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

rest of the building-. Alas ! all the monuments of Roman 
power and splendour, so dear to the artist, the historian , 
and the antiquary, depend upon the will of an arbitrary- 
sovereign ; and that will is influenced too often by interest, 
ambition, vanity, or superstition. Such rapacity is a 
crime against all ages and all generations; depriving the 
past of the trophies of its genius, and the title-deeds of its 
fame ; the present, of the noblest objects of curiosity, and 
the strongest motives to exertion ; the future of the most 
admirable masterpieces of art, and the most perfect models 
for imitation. To guard against the repetition of such de- 
predations, must be the desire of every man of genius, the 
duty of every man in authority, and the common interest 
of the whole civilized world. 

The palace of the Caesars is now a heap of ruins, nearly 
two miles in circuit, of which it is impossible even to make 
out the plan. Its area is covered with a rich soil, from 
fifteen to thirty feet deep, in which potatoes, artichokes, 
and cauliflowers flourish with great luxuriance. There are 
two villas upon the top, and a prosperous convent. I have 
walked around its base, and over its gardens, and through 
its crumbling arches and subterranean corridors, till its 
mournful spirit took possession of my soul, and I could 
have wept for the fall of the imperial glory. On the southern 
and western sides of the hill are immense fragments — some 
of huge rectangular blocks, pointing to the times of the 
Republic ; and others of opus reticulatum, indicating their 
imperial origin — all overgrown with weeds and briers, 
amidst which the wild hare makes her home, and the ser- 
pent and the lizard sun themselves without fear. Deep 
under ground, at the northern angle of the eminence, look- 
ing towards the forum and the capitol, is a set of vast 
arches, now occupied as a stable; in passing through 
which I came near being torn to pieces by a furious dog, 
and eaten up by fleas. About a century and a half ago, 
an immense hall was uncovered, which had long lain con- 
cealed beneath its own ruins ; but its pillars, statues, mo- 
saics, and precious marbles were immediately removed by 
the Farnese family, who owned the soil, to enrich their 
galleries and beautify their palaces. 

The Capitoline was originally a precipitous hill, covered 



THE CRADLE AND THRONE OF ROME. 181 

with a dense grove of trees ; and from the very foundation 
of Rome, regarded with awe and veneration as the abode 
of celestial powers. 

' Some god they knew — what god they could not tell — 
Did there amid the sacred horror dwell : 
The Arcadians called him Jove, and said they saw 
The mighty Thunderer, with majestic awe ; 
Who shook his shield, and dealt his bolts around, 
And scattered tempests o'er the teeming ground.' 

This superstition doubtless led to the subsequent glorious 
destination of the place. Romulus consecrated it by erect- 
ing the Temple of Jupiter Feretrius ; and the kings, 
consuls, and emperors added structures of a solidity and 
magnificence which, says Tacitus, the wealth of succeeding 
ages might adorn, but eould not increase, Thus it became 
both a fortress, frowning defiance on the foes of Rome ; 
and a sanctuary, crowded with altars and temples, the re- 
pository of the fatal oracles, and the seat ef the tutelar 
deities of the Empire. Twice the buildings were destroyed 
bv fire ; first in the civil wars between Marius and Svlla, 
and afterwards in the dreadful contest between the partisans 
of Vitellius and Vespasian. Tacitus deplores this event as 
6 the most lamentable and most disgraceful calamity that 
ever happened to the Roman people.' 

But the Capitol rose once more from its ashes, more 
splendid and majestic than ever ; and received from the 
munificence of Vespasian, and of his son Domitian, its last 
and richest embellishments, On its two extremities stood 
the Temples of Jupiter Feretrius and Jupiter Custos, 
flanked by those of Fortune and Fides, and of other infe- 
rior divinities. In the centre, crowning the majestic 
pyramid, rose, high over all, the residence of Jupiter Capi- 
tolinus, the guardian of the Empire, on a hundred steps, 
supported by a hundred pillars, adorned with all the refine- 
ments of art, and blazing with the plunder of the world. 
Within the splendid fane, with Juno on his left and Mi- 
nerva on his right, sat the Thunderer on a throne of gold, 
grasping the lightning in one hand, and with the other 
wielding the sceptre of universal dominion. The walls 
glittered with jewelled crowns and various weapons of war 



182 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN EUROPE. 

— the offerings of emperors and conquerors — the spoils of 
vanquished and subjugated nations. The portals flamed 
with gems and gold ; and pediment, niches, and roof teemed 
with the costliest treasures. The building was covered 
with bronze, the mere gilding of which amounted to the 
enormous sum of fifteen millions of dollars — an item which, 
perhaps more readily than any other, suggests the incalcu- 
lable wealth of this Throne of Empire and Religion. 

Hither the consuls were conducted by the senate, to 
assume the military dress, and implore the favour of the 
gods, before they marched to battle. Hither the victorious 
generals used to repair in triumph, to present the spoils 
and royal captives they had taken, and offer hecatombs to 
' Tarpeian Jove' Here, in case of danger and distress, the 
senate assembled, and the magistrates convened, to delibe- 
rate in the presence and under the immediate influence of 
the tutelar gods of Rome. Here the laws were exhibited 
to public inspection, as if under the sanction of the di- 
vinity ; and here also they were deposited, as if intrusted 
to his guardian care. Manlius, as long as he could extend his 
arm, and fix the attention of the people upon the Capitol 
which he had saved, suspended his fatal sentence. Caius 
Gracchus melted the hearts of his audience, when he 
pointed to the Capitol, and asked, with all the emphasis of 
despair, whether he could hope to find an asylum in that 
sanctuary whose pavement still streamed with the blood of 
his brother. Scipio Africanus, when accused by an envious 
faction, and obliged to appear before the people as a cri- 
minal, instead of answering the charge, turned to the 
Capitol, and invited the assembly to accompany him to the 
Temple of Jupiter, and give thanks to the gods for the 
defeat of the Carthaginian invader. And to the Capitol 
Cicero turned his hands and his eyes when he closed his 
first oration against Catiline with that noble address to 
Jupiter, presiding there over the destinies of the Empire, 
and dooming its enemies to destruction. Such was the 
solemn interest of this consecrated eminence, the awe 
which it inspired in the Roman mind, and the influence 
which it exerted over the populace, that the poets, orators, 
and historians of Rome are constantly referring to the 
Capitol as the most sacred locality in the world, and ap- 



THE CRADLE AND THRONE OF ROME. 183 

pealing to the gods who were supposed to dwell there as 
the guardians of their favoured city. 

The hill is now occupied by three fine palaces, designed 
by Michael Angelo, but vastly inferior to those which 
adorned it in imperial times. It is ascended from the mo- 
dern city on the northern side, by a long broad flight of 
steps, at the top of which are the ancient statues of Castor 
and Pollux holding their horses. Here you enter upon a 
spacious square, with the mansion of the Roman senator in 
front, two large buildings with fine porticoes on the right 
and left, and in the centre the noble equestrian statue of 
Marcus Aurelius, which originally stood in the forum The 
palace of the senator — there is but one Roman senator now, 
and he is nothing more than a name and a fine carriage — 
is a tall and unattractive edifice, with Corinthian pilasters, 
heavy grated windows, and a campanile as ugly as it is 
elevated. In this tower is an immense clock and several 
bells. One of the latter, which is very large, is rung only 
at the beginning and the end of the Carnival, and the in- 
auguration and death of the Pope. The view from the top 
is the finest that can anywhere be enjoyed of the limits and 
ruins of the ancient city. In the basement of the building 
is the lately excavated Tabularium, where were preserved 
of old the archives of the Empire. The other two buildings 
contain an immense collection of busts, statues, bas-reliefs, 
sarcophagi, galleries of paintings, and numerous relics of 
republican and imperial Rome. Here is the only authentic 
statue of Julius Ceesar, Here is the most beautiful Venus 
in the world. Here is the she-wolf of bronze, scarred with 
the thunder of Jove. Here are all the emperors, orators, 
heroes, sages, and poets of Rome, and the chief celebrities 
of Grreece, immortalized in marble. In short, the Capitol is 
consecrated no longer to the tutelar divinities of the city ; 
but to her arts, to the remains of her grandeur, the monu- 
ments of her genius, and her high-sounding but empty 
titles. 

At the foot of the Capitoline, on the south-east, looking 
towards the Coliseum, lie the august fragments of the 
Forum Romanum* where foreign monarchs trembled in 
their chains, and thousands hung breathless on the lips of 
Cicero. In the days of its glory, with its grand and gor- 



* 
184 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

geous environment of temples and statues, porticoes and 
palaces, it presented one of the most imposing exhibitions 
that ever greeted the eye of man. Nothing remains but 
its ruins. The naked wall of the rostra stands there, stripped 
of its marble, and silent for ever. This, with the column 
of Phocus in front, the arch of Septimius Sever us at one end, 
eight Doric pillars of granite at the other, three elegant 
Corinthian shafts in the rear, a patch of the massive pave- 
ment of the Via Sacra, a few fragments of variegated 
marble, broken capitals and cornices, and heaps of solidly 
cemented brickwork, about which antiquaries quarrel in 
vain, is nearly all that is left to remind the stranger that 
here once stood the pride of the Roman people, the theatre 
of immortal eloquence, the centre of imperial power. To 
crown its ruin and complete its degradation, it is now the 
common rendezvous of cattle, and called the Campo 
Vaccino, or Cow-field. 

Rome grew, and the crowds that flocked to the public 
assemblies increased, and in course of time the forum was 
found too small for their accommodation. But its limits 
could not be enlarged, for it was encircled with buildings 
whose demolition would have been sacrilege, and conse- 
crated by omens and auguries, and the fame of heroic 
deeds. Julius Csesar therefore, without violating its 
dignity or destroying its pre-eminence, took upon himself 
the popular charge of providing the Roman people with 
another, which after him, was called the Julian. The 
ground itself cost about four millions and a half of our 
money. It was on the eastern side of the Roman Forum, 
and connected with it. In its centre stood the temple of 
Venus Genetrix, and in front the bronze statue of Csesar's 
favourite horse. It was here that he first offended the 
Roman people by receiving the senators sitting in front of 
the temple, when they had come to him in solemn state. 
There is nothing of this forum remaining that can be iden- 
tified. 

Adjacent to this Augustus erected another, lined with a 

magnificent portico, and enclosing the temple of Mars 

Ultor, whose stately columns, a mere fragment, constitute 

its sole remains. It was adorned with many bronze statues 

of the finest workmanship. Those on one side represented 



THE CRADLE AND THRONE OF ROME. 185 

the Latin and Roman kings from JEneas down to Tar- 
quinius Superbus ; and those on the other, the Roman 
heroes, all in triumphal robes. The base of each statue 
was inscribed with the history of the person whom it repre- 
sented. In the centre stood the colossal Augustus, tower- 
ing above all the rest. 

The Forum of Nerva was so named because it was 
finished by that emperor, though it was begun by Domitian, 
his predecessor. Sometimes it was called the Forum 
Transitorium, because it formed a connection between 
those already described and that which was afterwards con- 
structed by Trajan. Part of the wall which enclosed it 
still remains, and is one of the grandest ruins of ancient 
Rome; with the front of the temple of Pallas Minerva 
which it encircled, whose fine Corinthian columns stand 
buried to half their height in the ground. 

The Forum of Trajan was last in date, but first in 
beauty. The splendour of these edifices was indeed pro- 
gressive. The Julian is said to have surpassed the Roman ; 
the Augustan is described by Pliny as the most beautiful 
of all structures ; yet it was afterwards acknowledged in- 
ferior to that of Nerva ; and the latter yielded in its turn 
to the matchless fabric of Trajan. This consisted of four 
porticoes, supported by pillars of the most beautiful marble, 
their roofs resting on brazen beams, and covered with 
brazen plates. It was paved with variegated marble, and 
adorned with numerous bronze statues. At one end stood 
a temple, at the other a triumphal arch ; on one side a ba- 
silica, on the other a public library ; in the centre the cele- 
brated column, recording in bas-relief the history of Trajan, 
and crowned with his colossal statue. This column still 
stands entire, surrounded with many fragments of granite 
and marble pillars ; but the Galilean fishermen, with the 
keys, occupies the place of the Roman emperor at its sum- 
mit. When Constantius first beheld this forum, he was 
struck dumb with astonishment ; and Ammianus Marcel- 
linus pronounced it unsurpassed beneath the sun, and ad- 
mirable even in the estimation of the gods. 

These were the for a civilia, devoted to public matters 
relating to the welfare of the state. There were ahofora 
venalia^ which, as the name indicates, were merely places 



1SG THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of trade. One of these, the Forum Boarium, is still iden- 
tified by the massive arch of Janus Quadrifrons, west of 
the Forum Romanum, and not far from the Tarpeian 
precipice. 

Midway between the Great Forum and the Coliseum, at 
the highest point of the Via Sacra, stands the triumphal 
arch of Titus, the most beautiful of all the Roman struc- 
tures of this character remaining. It was erected by the 
senate, in honour of the general who subdued Judea, and 
spoiled the Holy City. A little to the left of this, as you 
look towards the Coliseum, are seen three stupendous vaults, 
the remains of the Basilica of Constantine, built upon the 
ruins of the Temple of Peace. The latter was reared by 
Vespasian at the conclusion of the Jewish wars, and filled 
with the spoils of the temple at Jerusalem, and the chief 
wonders of art collected from all the provinces of the em- 
pire ; so that, according to Josephus, it constituted the 
most splendid museum in the world. This gorgeously- 
furnished edifice was consumed by fire in the reign of the 
Emperor Commodus ; and its destruction, ascribed to the 
vengeance of the gods, was regarded as a melancholy omen 
to the empire. The popular sentiment was verified by the 
event ; for the fall of the Temple of Peace was followed by 
centuries of rebelli'on, convulsion, and disaster. 

The Coliseum, stripped as it is of its external decora- 
tions, and its very walls more than half demolished, still 
astonishes and delights the beholder. I ranged through 
its lofty arcades, and trod its vaulted galleries with ever- 
increasing wonder at the grandeur of its immense propor- 
tions. Around, beneath, above, 'was one vast spectacle of 
magnificence and devastation, of glory and decay — a 
mouldering mass of ruined masonry, covered with weeds 
and shrubs, and sweet wall-flowers blossoming amid the 
stones which had been stained with the blood of the mar- 
tyrs. Yet this mighty structure, 

' Which on its public shows unpeopled Home, 
And held uncrowded nations,' 

was erected by Vespasian and Titus out of part only of the 
materials, and on a small part of the area of Nero's Golden 
House. 



THE CRADLE AND THRONE OF ROME. 187 

The Coliseum, owing to the solidity of its structure, sur- 
vived the era of barbarism ; and was so perfect in the 
thirteenth century, that games were celebrated in it for the 
amusement of the Roman public. Strange as it may ap- 
pear, its destruction was the fruit of Roman taste and 
vanity. When the city began to arise from its ruins, and 
a desire for fine architecture began to revive, the wealthy 
citizens — princes, nobles, and cardinals — carried off its ma- 
terials to build their own sumptuous palaces. It is said of 
Cardinal Farnese, that when erecting his most superb man- 
sion, he requested permission of his uncle, who was Pope at 
the time, to procure marble from the Coliseum. After 
much persuasion His Holiness granted the petition, limit- 
ing the privilege to twelve hours. Hereupon the wily car- 
dinal turned into the building a force of four hundred 
men, and within the allotted time, furnished himself with 
all that he desired. Several other palaces— as the Barba- 
rine, and I believe also the Doria — were constructed chiefly 
of stone from the same quarry. Probably the immense 
structure would have been totally demolished had not 
Benedict the Fourteenth arrested the process of destruction. 
Out of respect for the memory of the martyrs who had suf- 
fered there, he erected a cross in the centre of the arena, 
and declared the place sacred. This measure, two or 
three centuries earlier, would have preserved the grand 
fabric entire ; it can now only protect its remains, and 
transmit the ruined pile to posterity, a mere fragment of 
the Flavian Amphitheatre. 

The last time I passed it was on a Sabbath afternoon. I 
had always found a soldier on guard at the principal 
entrance; but now there were two, who crossed their 
bayonets on my approach. When I urged my desire to 
enter, they shook their heads, and answered, t &est impos- 
sible, Monsieur' I walked around without the wall ; and 
looking through one of the arches from the other side, dis- 
covered the reason why I had not been admitted : two 
French soldiers, stripped to the waist, were fighting a duel 
with swords. 



( 188 ) 



CHAPTER XIX. 

MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 

Millearium Aureura — Via Appia — Other Koman Roads — Cloacae. 
— Aqueducts — Fountains — Therinae of Dioclesian — Thermae of 
Titus — Thermae of Caracalla — Thermae of Agrippa, of Con- 
stantine, of Alexander Severus — Circus Maximus — Circus of 
Maxentius — Temple of Quirinus — Temple of the Sun— Por- 
ticoes. 

In the Roman Forum, at the west end of the PRostrum, 
stood the pillar called the Millearium Aureum, on which 
were inscribed the distances from the Capitol to all the 
great cities of Italy and of the empire. At this column 
the Vise or military roads commenced, diverging in every 
direction as they left the city, generally running in straight 
lines as nearly as possible, sometimes cut through the 
solid rock, and sometimes carried on lofty arches over 
broad valleys and deep ravines. They were the most re- 
markable highways ever constructed by any nation in any 
age. In process of time they were extended to the most 
distant parts of the empire, and formed a means of easy 
communication with its remotest provinces. 

The most famous of all these military roads was the 
Via Appia. This was begun by Appius Claudius more 
than three centuries before Christ. At first it terminated 
at Capua, but was subsequently continued to Brundusium. 
It was paved with solid blocks of basaltic lava, exceedingly 
smooth and hard. These blocks were not square, but 
polygonal, yet fitted together in .the exactest manner. They 
were from two to three feet in breadth, and from one 
to two in thickness. The most interesting part of this 
road from the tomb of Ccecilia Metella to the Alban Hills, 
has been excavated during the reign of the present pope, 
under the direction of the eminent and indefatigable Roman 
archaeologist, Commendatore Canina ; who, when the 
work was finished, in 1853, published an interesting ac- 



MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 189 

count of it in two volumes, with detailed topographical 
plans, and restorations of the principal monuments. 

One fine morning in May, I procured a carriage, and 
we drove out eight miles on this ancient thoroughfare. 
Passing* the Porta Sebastiano, we met a priest who spoke 
a little English, and asked him, as our vetturino seemed 
not to know, which was the way into the Via Appia. 
' Oh yes, 5 he replied, ' it is very happy, you must not fear ; 
it is quite safe for you. 5 Thus encouraged, though little 
enlightened, we proceeded, but soon found that we were 
going astray, and were obliged to take a cross-road, which 
brought us to the Via Appia near the catacombs of San 
Sebastiano. From this point, for more than seven miles, 
it is a continuous street of tombs ; none of them entire, and 
most of them in utter ruin. Among the rest is one, near 
the fourth milestone, which Canina supposes to be that of 
Seneca, where he was murdered, by order of Nero, for his 
endeavours to reform his imperial pupil ; and two near the 
fifth milestone, evidently more ancient than their neigh- 
bours, and somewhat Etruscan in their style, which he 
identifies as the sepulchres of the immortal Horatii and 
Curiatii. The largest of all these monuments is called 
Casal Motondo, about seven miles and a half beyond the 
city wall. It is built of small fragments of lava, imbedded 
in a strong cement ; and was originally encased in large 
blocks of travertine, and covered with a conical roof. 
Travertine and conical roof, however, long since disap- 
peared under the hand of the spoiler ; and there is now 
upon the top of it a farm-house, with outbuildings, and a 
garden of olives. It is not certain to whom this majestic 
mausoleum belonged, but an inscription discovered in the 
course of a late excavation has led to the belief that it was 
reared by Marcus Aurelius Messallrus Cotta, who was 
Consul in the twentieth year of our era, in honour of his 
father, the orator and poet, Messala Corvinus — the friend 
of Augustus and Hoix ce, who died nine years before. If 
this opinion be cone t, this monument was built to per- 
petuate the name of the dead, while he who ' abolished 
death, and brought life and immortality to light through 
his gospel, 5 was personally upon the earth. 

My remarks on the sepulchre of Ccecilia Metella I re- 



190 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

serve for another chapter. The fragments of fine statuary 
and beautifully wrought marbles, which lie scattered along 
the way, are truly a melancholy sight. In some places the 
road is actually macadamized with these fragments, which 
have been broken up for this purpose. Much of the dis- 
tance, however, the ancient pavement is nearly perfect, and 
here and there one sees something of the narrow sidewalk 
with its curbstones— the very pavement over which rolled 
the wheels of Augustus, and the very sidewalk trodden by 
the weary-footed Paul, ' a prisoner of Jesus Christ,' as he 
came to stand before his imperial pagan judge. 

The Via Aurelia was more extensive than the Via 
Appia. Reaching the Mediterranean coast at Alsium, it 
ran along the shore to Genoa, and thence to Forum. Julium 
in Gaul. Besides these, there were the Via Latina, the 
Via Labicana, the Via Collatina, the Via Prenestina, 
the Via Tiburtina, the Via Nomentana, the Via Carniola, 
the Via Veientana, the Via Solaria, the Via Flaminia, 
the Via Cassia,^ the Via Claudia, the Via Vitellea, the 
Via Laurentina, the Via Ardeatina, the Via Portuensis, 
the Via Ostiensis, and perhaps several more. Most of 
these were constructed in the same manner as the Via 
Appiaj though in some instances they were paved with 
large rectangular blocks of hewn stone, joined so closely as 
to appear but one continuous rock. These great military 
ways are among the most remarkable memorials of the 
Roman power. You meet with their remains in every 
direction across the wild campagna ; and some of them 
may still be traced a hundred miles from the capital. They 
have resisted alike the influence of time, and the march of 
marshalled hosts, with the roll of triumphal chariots, and 
the heavy engines of war ; and where they have not been 
torn up by human hands, or shaken to pieces by earth- 
quakes, or undermined by torrents, they are as perfect now 
as they were two thousand years ago. 

Another of the most noticeable relics of ancient Rome 
— remarkable as well for its utility as its antiquity and 
solidity — -is the Cloaca Maxima. This is an arched sub- 
terranean gallery, sixteen feet wide and thirty feet high, 
constructed in the reign of Tarquinius Superbus, for the 
purpose of draining the city. It was built by Etruscan 



MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 191 

hands, in the Etruscan style — that is, with large square 
blocks of travertine, nicely fitted together without cramps 
or cement. So solid is the structure that it remains as 
perfect, after the chariot-wheels of twenty-four centuries 
have rolled over it as it was in the day of its completion. 

Communicating with this great sewer were many smaller 
ones of like construction, also called Cloacce, carried under 
the city in every direction, sufficiently large for a boat or a 
loaded car to pass through them. To cleanse them, streams 
from the aqueducts were turned into them, and torrents 
rushed through them with a force which would soon have 
torn to pieces any ordinary masonry of our day, and swept 
the fragments into the Tiber. Since the ruin of the aque- 
ducts, the expense of clearing them from time to time has 
been enormous, and on one occasion amounted to more than 
six hundred thousand dollars. Notwithstanding the im- 
mense superincumbent weight of modern buildings and 
ancient ruins, these gigantic works for the chief part still 
remain entire, serving to drain the present as they did the 
former city, and exciting often in the tourist a wonder 
equal to that which they produced in the Gothic con- 
queror. 

Of all the ruins of imperial Rome, the most stupendous 
are the broken arches of its aqueducts. From the city wall 
you see them stretching away across the dreary campagna 
for six or seven miles ; and in some places where they 
cross the little valleys, they are a hundred feet high. The 
original structures were of stone, but many of the additions 
and repairs are of brick. There were nine of these aque- 
ducts on this side the Tiber, and three on the other. One 
of the nine conveyed the water more than sixty miles. Two 
of them were carried more than twenty miles over these 
lofty arches. The others were partly subterranean. The 
first was built by Appius Claudius, as its name indicates, 
three hundred and eleven years before Christ. Two others 
dated from the clays of the republic ; but the rest were all 
of imperial origin. They were all broken arid destroyed 
by the barbarians in the sixth century ; but three of them 
have been restored by the popes, and still serve to supply 
Rome with abundance of pure and salubrious water from 
the distant mountains. 



192 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

The streams from these aqueducts anciently flowed into 
large reservoirs, elevated on towers called Castella, whence 
it was distributed over the city. 'These towers were 
massive and solid structures, and some of them were very 
magnificent, being faced with marble, and adorned with 
pillars and statuary. The number of public reservoirs, 
from their extent and depth called lakes, is supposed to 
have been over a thousand. The fountains also were ex- 
ceedingly numerous and tastefully ornamented. Agrippa 
alone, according to Pliny, opened a hundred and thirty in 
one year, and beautified them with three hundred statues of 
brass and marble. Strabo tells us that such a quantity of 
water was introduced into the city, that whole rivers 
seemed to flow through the streets and sewers ; and every 
house, by means of conduits and cisterns, was furnished 
with an unfailing supply. If the Claudian aqueduct alone 
afforded eight hundred thousand tons of water a day, how 
copious must have been this grand provision for the popular 
convenience ! "When the utility of these public works is 
considered, one does not wonder at their estimate by Fron- 
tonius, who preferred them to the idle bulk of the 
Egyptian pyramids, and to the more graceful though less 
profitable edifices of Greece. 

Only three of these aqueducts are now in use ; yet Rome 
is better supplied, perhaps, with good water than any other 
city in the world. Its streets, courts, and squares are 
adorned with numerous fountains ; not throwing up each 
a mere thread of water into the air, or distilling a few 
drops into a dirty basin; but pouring forth magnificent 
jets and torrents, which never intermit nor diminish. The 
Fontana di Paolina, just under the brow of the Janiculum, 
is the source of three rivers, which drive a dozen flour- 
mills, and all the other machinery of the Trastevera* And 
there are several others — as the Fontana di Trevi in the 
centre of the city, that on the Quirinal, where Moses stands 
smiting the rock, the two in front of St. Peter's, and those 
of the Piazza Navona, of the Piazza di Spagna, of the 
Piazza del Popolo — which rival this in the grandeur of 
their arrangements, and the quantity of water which they 
yield. 

With the aqueducts and fountains of imperial Eome are 



MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES, 193 

naturally connected the Thermce, which ranked among the 
most magnificent as well as the most useful of its architec- 
tural wonders. There were at least sixteen public baths, 
supplied with hot and cold water, and open at all hours of 
the day. They differed in magnitude and in splendour, but 
all had some features in common. Besides the conveniences 
for bathing, they contained spacious halls for reading, de- 
clamation, gymnastic exercises, &c. These halls were 
lined and paved with marble, and adorned with the most 
valuable works of art. They were surrounded with groves, 
and gardens, and promenades, and combined every species 
of refined and manly amusement. One who looks upon the 
modern Romans must conclude that they have sadly dege- 
nerated in respect of personal cleanliness since the days of 
Diocletian ; and we may well envy the ancients, who could 
enjoy, every day, without trouble or expense, scenes of 
splendour and luxury which the proudest monarch of the 
present age might in vain attempt to emulate. 

The Thermce of Diocletian, situated on Mons Quirina- 
lis, were the most extensive and the most magnificent in 
Rome. The buildings covered an area nearly a mile in 
circuit, and occupied forty thousand Christians in their 
construction. There are no ruins more grand and im- 
posing within the walls of the city. One hall, nearly as 
large as St. Peter's, has been converted into a church, in 
the form of a Greek cross, after the designs of Michael 
Angelo. The vaulted roof still retains the rings by which 
the ancient lamps were suspended., and eight lofty columns 
of oriental granite still stand in their original positions, 
though their bases are concealed by the elevation of the 
floor several feet above its former level. Near this are 
the remains of a vast reservoir in nine compartments, and 
of several large saloons, with arches of immense span, now 
filled w r ith hay, and tenanted by myriads of fleas. 

The Baths of Titus, enlarged and adorned by Domitian 
and Trajan, stood upon the Esquiline, north of the Coli- 
seum. They were of great extent and magnificence, 
though inferior to those of Diocletian. Parts of a temple, 
of a theatre, and of a capacious saloon, remain above 
ground ; and many spacious vaults, and reservoirs, and 
corridors, below. Some of these subterranean apartments 





I 



194 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

are curiously painted, furnishing the best specimens of 
ancient fresco that have been preserved in Rome ; and 
though buried for so many centuries, they still retain much 
of their original beauty. Giovanni and Rafaello were so 
pleased with them that they copied them for the logia of 
the Vatican. These vaults were filled up in the seven- 
teenth century, to prevent their being made a place of 
refuge by banditti; but in 1813 they were opened again, 
and have since remained much as we now see them. From 
these stately ruins was taken the famous group of the 
Laocoon, with several fine pillars of granite, porphyry, 
and alabaster. If completely excavated, and all their 
recesses explored, there is no telling what treasures of 
aneient art might here be brought to light. With these 
remains are connected the Sette Sale, or Seven Halls — 
vast vaulted rooms, intended originally, perhaps, as re- 
servoirs to supply the baths with water. It is difficult, 
however, to say with confidence what here belonged to the 
buildings of the Thermce, and what to the Villa of Maece- 
nas, and the Golden House of Nero, which occupied the 
same elevation. 

Next to the Coliseum, the largest ruin in Rome, and the 
best preserved of all similar structures, is that of the Baths 
of Caracalla. They are entirely stripped of their pillars 
and statues, both within and without ; but the walls are 
still standing, and the principal apartments may be easily 
distinguished. The ruin is oblong, and nearly a mile in 
circuit. Besides its great halls and numerous chambers, 
this establishment contained the temples of Esculapius and 
Apollo, as the genii tutelares of a place sacred to the care 
of the body and the improvement of the mind ; and two 
others dedicated to Bacchus and Hercules, as the protect- 
ing deities of the Antonine family. There were also a 
gymnasium and a library, as well as spacious rooms where 
poets recited, rhetoricians declaimed, and philosophers 
lectured. All these apartments were paved and vaulted 
with mosaics, and decorated with paintings and statues. 
There were walks shaded with rows of stately trees, and 
bounded by a magnificent portico. This immense struc- 
ture was probably entire so late as the sixth century, when 
the destruction of the aqueducts which supplied the baths 



MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 195 

rendered it useless, and it fell rapidly into decay. When 
the granite columns of the porticoes were removed, the 
roof came down with a crash which shook the city, and the 
people thought it was an earthquake. Among these 
splendid ruins were found the two magnificent basaltic 
basins now in the Vatican, also the Farnese Hercules, the 
two gladiators, the Atreus and Thyestes, the colossal 
Flora in the Neapolitan museum, and the Venus Calipyge 
— one of the finest statues in the world. Among these 
glorious fragments poor Shelley used to wander, 

' companionless 
As the last cloud of an expiring storm, 
Whose thunder is its knell.' 

Here, he tells us, he wrote the greater part of his ' Prome- 
theus Unbound ;' and in the Protestant burying-ground, 
just beyond the Aventine, less than a mile distant, I have 
seen a tombstone, with the simple inscription, ' Shelley— 
Cor Cordium.' 

The Baths of Agrippa, which he bequeathed to the 
Roman people, were in the rear of the Pantheon, where 
the remains of a grand circular hall are nearly concealed 
by modern dwellings. They had connected with them 
extensive gardens, a fine artificial lake, and a portico more 
than a mile in length. The two colossal horses on Monte 
Cavallo, the statues of the Nile and the Tiber at the 
Capitol, and a few other works of art in the Rospigliosi 
palace, are the only relics of the Baths of Constantine. 
For those of Nero and Alexander Sever us one inquires 
in vain : Canina himself cannot tell where they stood, 
and all the Roman antiquaries have been unable to iden- 
tify a single trace of their magnificence. 

In the valley which divided the Palatine and the Aven- 
tine, on the very spot where the games were being cele- 
brated when the Romans seized the Sabine women, Tar- 
quinius Priscus constructed the famous Circus Maximus, 
which was enlarged and improved from time to time, till, 
in the reign of Constantine, it was capable of accommo- 
dating half the population of Rome. In this circus an 
astonishing number of wild beasts were exhibited : two 
hundred and fifty-two years before Christ, a hundred and 
forty-two elephants; during Caesar's third dictatorship, 



196 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

four hundred lions ; but the Emperor Gordian, and forty 
years afterwards the Emperor Probus, converted the circus 
into a temporary wood, and turned into it an incredible 
multitude of wild animals of every kind for the amusement 
of the people, who were at liberty to take whatever they 
could catch. The popularity of the circus increased with 
the corruption of morals which accompanied the decline of 
the empire. Ammianus Marcellinus, animadverting on 
the avidity with which such amusements were sought, and 
the zest with which they were enjoyed, holds the following 
language : i The Circus Maximus is their temple, their 
dwelling-house, the place of their public meeting, and of 
all their hopes. In the forum, in the streets, and the 
squares, multitudes assemble together and dispute, some 
defending one thing and some another. The oldest take 
the privilege of age, and cry out in the Temples and the 
Forum that the republic must fall, if, in the approach- 
ing games, the person whom they support does not win 
the prize, and first pass the goal. When the much-desired 
day of the equestrian games arrives, before sunrise, all 
rush headlong to the spot, exceeding in swiftness the 
chariots that are to run, and upon the success of which 
their wishes are so divided that many pass the night 
without sleep.' Lactantius confirms this account, and adds, 
that the people, from their great eagerness, often quarrelled 
and fought. Very little remains by which to identify this 
renowned resort; nothing, indeed, but a few fragments of 
its porticoes along the slopes of the Palatine and the 
Avantine; while the place of the Spina is occupied by 
the unclassical gasworks of modern Rome; and its two 
Egyptian obelisks have been transferred, the one to the 
Piazza del Popolo, and the other to the Piazza di San 
Giovanni in Laterano. 

The Circus of Maxentius, near the tomb of Csecilia 
Metella, presents such remnants of its ancient walls as 
enable us to form a pretty correct idea of its different 
parts and its general arrangements. We stumbled upon 
this extensive ruin quite accidentally, in one of our mis- 
cellaneous perambulations through the chaos of antiquities 
which environs Rome ; and an English party soon entered 
the enclosure, whose better information answered instead 



MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 197 

of our guide-books, which we had left at home. A large 
portion of the exterior of this circus remains, and the 
foundations of the two obelisks which terminated the 
spina and formed the goals. Near the principal goal, on 
one side, behind the benches, stands the tower whereon 
the judges sat to observe the contests. One end supported 
a gallery, which contained a band of musicians, and was 
flanked by two towers, whence the signals for starting were 
given. Its length was a third of a mile, its breadth two 
hundred and sixty feet, the extent of the spina nine hun- 
dred and twenty-two feet, the distance from the career, or 
starting-point, to the first meta, or goal, five hundred and 
fifty feet ; yet these dimensions were not near as great as 
those of the Circus Maximus. There were seven ranges 
of seats, which would contain, perhaps, fifty thousand 
spectators. As jostling was allowed, and no exertion of 
strength or skill was prohibited, the chariots were occa- 
sionally overturned ; and as the drivers had the reins tied 
around their bodies, so that they could not suddenly disen- 
gage themselves, fatal accidents sometimes occurred. To 
remove those who were killed or injured, there was a large 
gate opposite the first meta; and this was necessary, as 
the ancients deemed it an evil omen to go through a gate 
defiled by the passage of a dead body. Over the end 
opposite the career was a triumphal arch, through which 
the victorious charioteer drove, amidst the joyful acclama- 
tions of the multitude. There were originally four sets of 
drivers, named from the four colours which they wore : the 
Albati, white — the JRussati, red — the Prasini, green — and 
the Veneti, blue; to which Domitian added two more, the 
Aurei, yellow — and the Purpurei, purple. Each colour 
drove five rounds with fresh horses ; their stables, there- 
fore, were close to the circus. 

Accompany me now, kind reader, to the Quirinal, and 
let us look for his temple, where he vanished amidst the 
tempest that constituted the chariot of his ascension. 
Here it stood, ' sublime with lofty columns,' on the ground 
now occupied by the gardens of the Jesuits. But there 
are no traces of it left, and its last remains were removed 
by Otho of Milan, when Senator of Rome, to form the 
steps of the Ara Coeli on the Capitol. It is commonly 



198 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

supposed that Romulus was assassinated by his senators, 
who covered their crime by making him a god. He was 
worshipped under the name of Quirinus, and the eminence 
whereon his temple was reared was thence called Mons 
Quirinalis. The edifice was supported by a colonnade of 
seventy-six majestic pillars, and its portal was approached 
by a noble flight of more than a hundred steps. We may 
judge something of the reverence felt by the ancient 
Romans for the founder and tutelar divinity of their city, 
from the fact that Julius Caesar ascended those steps on 
his knees, as pilgrims now do the Scala Santa at the 
Saint John Lateran. 

On the opposite side of the Quirinal, overlooking the 
Campus Martius, stood the Temple of the Sun, erected by 
Aurelian, and not inferior in grandeur and decoration to 
that of Quirinus. The pillars which sustained its portico, 
if we may judge from a single fragment remaining in 
another part of the city, must have been nearly or quite 
seventy feet high ; and as they, with the whole of their 
entablature, were of the whitest marble and the richest 
order, they must have presented a very splendid and 
imposing appearance, worthy of ' the far-beaming god of 
day.' But the massive colonnade has long since fallen, 
and nothing remains upon the ground to be identified, but 
two huge pieces of elaborately wrought cornice, lying in 
the Colonna Gardens. I measured these with my staff; 
and found one of them sixteen feet long, and eight feet 
thick ; the other, twelve by ten ; each a single block of 
white marble, though now sadly darkened by age. Some 
idea may be formed of the wealth and splendour of this 
edifice, when it is stated that Aurelian gave to it fifteen 
thousand pounds of gold from the spoils of the conquered 
Palmyra. 

The Portico of Constantine, which stood near the Temple 
of the Sun, has totally disappeared. The porticoes of ancient 
Rome were numerous, and constituted one of its chief 
architectural beauties. They were covered walks, supported 
by columns, open on one side, sometimes on both, and often 
richly adorned with works of art. Augustus erected a 
portico in honour of Livia his wife, and another to Octavia 
his sister, both of which were very extensive and magnificent. 



MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. 199 

Agrippa built the Portions Septorum, enclosing the space 
of a mile, where the legions were mustered and paid ; and 
another to which he gave his own name, ornamented with 
numerous paintings and statues. Several lines of porticoes 
led to the capitol, and beautified the sides of the acclivity. 
Forums, temples, curias, basilicas, and theatres, were usually- 
approached or encircled by these ornamental structures. 
Suetonius says that Nero lined the streets of Rome with 
one continued portico. One of the later emperors built a 
portico, with four rows of columns and one of pilasters, 
a mile in length ; and another erected one which extended 
two miles along the Flarninian Way, from the gate of the 
city to the Milvian Bridge. The entire Campus Martins 
was at one time enclosed by a continuous portico. But the 
modern tourist sees nothing of any of these, except an 
arch or two of that of Octavia in the miserable fish-market 
of the Ghetto, and a couple of columns belonging to that 
of Pompey, of which Propertius sings so mournfully : 

' Though rich with tapestry from conquered East, 
Despised is now great Pompey's Portico ; 
The plane-trees tall, in ordered ranks that rise ; 
And the pure streams, whose gentle murmurs late 
Lulled Maro's muse to rest/ 



( 200 ) 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS, 

The Fame of the Tiber — Its Reputation vindicated — The Campus 
Martius — Its ruined Structures — Mausoleum of Augustus — 
Mausoleum of Hadrian — Roman Architecture — Its Characteristics 
— Its History — Borromini and his School — Reflections. 

What Cicero said of Athens is now as true of Rome : 
c Wherever we move, we tread upon some history. 5 He 
who delights to range in thought over the past, and converse 
with the great minds of other days, here finds abundant 
occupation, and inexhaustible sources of pleasure. Every 
street suggests to him the memory of some heroic deed, 
and at every turn the ghost of some illustrious personage 
rises solemnly before him. The thoughtful tourist treads 
lightly as he ranges over the Seven Hills ; once so crowded 
with- population, and graced with so many noble fabrics ; 
now so scantily peopled, and covered everywhere with 
ruins. 

What river can equal in interest this same Tiber ? The 
Amazon and the Mississippi, which roll their mighty floods 
through forests of a thousand miles, are streams unknown 
to story and to song. The Thames, the Rhine, and the 
Danube have their history and their monumental ruins. 
The names of the Nile, the Jordan, the Tigris, and the 
Euphrates — consecrated by miracle, and immortalized by 
the fortunes of the Chosen People — can never fail to attract 
the pious mind by their sacred associations. But the Tiber 
has other and peculiar charms — for the scholar first, and 
also for the Christian. Its banks are the birthplace of our 
modern civilization and jurisprudence ; and hence we have 
derived the fire of eloquence and the inspiration of the 
muses. Its name is interwoven with our schoolday memo- 
ries ; and its history for many centuries is the history of 
the world. Here the Caesars sat and ruled the nations ; 
hence Tully and Virgil still rule them. Here Paul, in 
chains, preached the gospel to the Gentiles, and wrote ^ve 



THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS. 201 

at least of his fourteen Epistles ; and with him, a noble 
army of martyrs testified unto the death. 

These shores, now so dreary and silent, once swarmed 
with gay and busy life ; and were lined everywhere with 
gorgeous palaces and scenes of rural beauty. Pliny tells 
us that this single stream was adorned with more fine villas, 
and served as a prospect to more, than all the other rivers 
in the world. Doubtless some allowance should be made 
for Roman vanity ; but the Tiber was certainly unrivalled 
for the grandeur and magnificence of its numerous patrician 
residences. This statement applies not only to the golden 
days of Augustus and Trajan, but also to the iron age of 
Valentinian and Honorius, after Italy had long been the 
seat of civil war, and more than once the theatre of 
barbarian fury and Gothic devastation. I have often wished 
that Napoleon had been permitted to execute what some 
have been pleased to characterize as a crazy design — that 
of turning the stream from its course where it flows 
6 through a marble wilderness ;' for besides the golden 
candlestick from the Temple at Jerusalem, what invaluable 
treasures of art, what relics of imperial splendour, must lie 
concealed beneath its yellow whirlpools ! 

Some travellers, absurdly measuring its mass of water by 
its bulk of fame, and finding its appearance inferior to their 
preconceptions of its majesty, have spoken of the Tiber as 
fc an insignificant stream/ ' a narrow and muddy ditch,' 
' scarcely worthy the name of a river. 5 Dr. Burton says : 
6 The Tiber is a stream of which classical recollections are 
apt to raise too favourable anticipations : when we think of 
the fleets of the capital of the world sailing up it, and 
pouring in their treasures of tributary; kingdoms, we are 
likely to attach to it ideas of grandeur and magnificence ; 
but if we come to the Tiber with such expectations, our 
disappointment will be great/ And great indeed was mine, 
for such representations had given me a very mean opinion 
of ' Father Tiber ;' but I found the old gentleman making 
a very respectable appearance, and fully justifying his 
ancient fame. As Hobhouse says: 'It is not the muddy, 
insignificant stream which the disappointment of overheated 
imaginations has described ; but one of the finest rivers of 
Europe, now rolling through a vale of gardens, and now 



202 THE AMERICAN PASTOPw IN EUROPE. 

sweeping the base of swelling acclivities, clothed with wood, 
and crowned with villas and their evergreen shrubberies.' 
As facts are commonly better for information than rhapso- 
dies, let me assure my readers that its average breadth 
below the city, and for some distance above, is not less than 
four hundred feet; that steamboats ascend it sixty or 
seventy miles several times a week ; that it flows with a 
deep and rapid current, after the manner of our own 
Mississippi ; and that it has frequently flooded the greater 
part of modern Rome, and threatened the dislodgment of 
the red-robed reverends of the Vatican. 

Many tourists pretend that they cannot see the propriety 
of the epithet ' golden,' applied so often to its waters ; but 
all antiquity unites in pronouncing the Tiber * golden ;' 
and whoever will put on the spectacles of the present 
writer, and wander as he has done again and again along 
its banks at sunset, or look down upon it from the parapet 
of the Ponte Molle, or the battlements of the Castle of 
Sant' Angelo, under the full blaze of a May-day noon, will 
prove himself either mentally or chromatically defective, if 
he does not endorse the judgment of antiquity. 

This water, c in the brave days of old,' had a high repu- 
tation for salubrity and sweetness. The Emperor Hadrian 
thought he could not live without it, and carried a supply 
with him in all his excursions from Rome. So thought and 
so did two subsequent infallibles< — Clement the Seventh 
and Paul the Third — as very sensibly advised by their 
respective physicians. 

The Campus Martins, lying in a curve of the Tiber, 
between it and the ancient city, was in the early ages of 
the republic an open field, devoted to military purposes. 
In process of time, some edifices of public utility were 
erected upon it, which under the empire t grew into a city 
of palaces, theatres, porticoes, and temples, all of the most 
stately and magnificent architecture, surrounded with 
groves and shady walks, and arranged with due regard to 
prospective beauty. Viewed from the Janiculum, this 
superb array of public buildings, bordered in front by the 
Tiber, and closed behind by the glorious structures of the 
Capitol, and those of the Viminal and the Quirinal, with 
the groves and gardens of the Pincian — then as now the 



THE ./TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MAETIUS. 20 



o 



Collis Hortulorum — must have presented a picture of 
astonishing beauty and variety, justifying the proud appella- 
tion so often bestowed on Eome — ' The Temple and Abode 
of the Gods.' 

It is difficult for us to conceive, and the few fragments 
which remain scarcely furnish us a hint of what must have 
been the grandeur and magnificence of the structures 
erected in the time of Rome's greatest glory, by consuls and 
emperors wielding unlimited power, commanding inex- 
haustible resources, and every one aiming to surpass his 
predecessor. The majestic Clauciian Tomb, as also that of 
Bibulus, against which Petrarch leaned talking with the 
noble Colonna, are heaps of ruin, whose original form even 
can no longer be determined. Pompey's Theatre is half 
subterranean, and its upper portions are occupied as stables. 
That of Marcellus is buried beneath an ill-shaped modern 
structure, misnamed a palace, raised upon the ruins of its 
vaulted galleries. The magnificent Corinthian Portico, 
with its double row of lofty columns, and all their splendid 
brazen capitals, has totally disappeared. And where are 
now the luxurious baths of Nero and Agrippa ? The 
Pantheon alone survives — the proudest monument preserved 
of imperial Eome; but the steps that conducted to its 
threshold, the marble that clothed its exterior, the bronze 
that blazed upon its ample dome, the silver that lined its 
lofty vault within, the statues that adorned its cornice and 
its niches, all have disappeared by the hands of the spoiler 
— barbarian and papal ; and the Pantheon, shorn of its 
beams, looks eclipsed through the disastrous twilight of 
eighteen hundred years. 

The largest structure of the Campus Martius was the 
Mausoleum of Augustus, Strabo represents it as a pendant 
garden, raised on lofty arches of white marble, planted 
with evergreen shrubs and trees, and terminating in a point, 
crowned with a bronze statue of the emperor. At the 
entrance of the vault where the mighty dead was deposited 
stood two Egyptian obelisks ; and all around was an exten- 
sive grove, cut into walks and alleys, adorned with statues, 
temples, porticoes, three theatres, and an amphitheatre ; 
constituting altogether a spectacle astonishingly beautiful, 
from which the stranger could scarcely tear himself away. 



204: THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Of this vast monument the two inner walls, which supported 
the whole mass, and the spacious vaults under which re- 
posed the imperial ashes, still remain — a fragment of great 
solidity, and suggestive of its original grandeur. The 
platform on the top was for a considerable time used for a 
garden, and covered with shrubs and flowers. Afterwards 
it was converted into a sort of amphitheatre, where, twenty 
or thirty years ago, the pious subjects of His Holiness were 
regularly entertained with Sabbath bull-fights. Then bulls 
were abolished, and preachers were introduced as a substi- 
tute ; and for a few years the Mausoleum was a place of 
worship. It still stands, near the Hipetta, and not far 
from the Tiber — a stupendous ruin, owing its preservation 
to the thickness of its walls and the strength of its founda- 
tions ; but its pyramidal form is gone, and its pillars and 
statues are no more. 

The Emperor Hadrian, who delighted in architectural 
magnificence, determined to build for himself a tomb which 
should surpass that of Augustus. As the Campus Martins 
was already crowded with imposing structures, he selected 
a site on the other side of the Tiber, at the foot of Mons 
Vaticanus, where its isolation would render it more con- 
spicuous. Here, on a vast quadrangular platform of stone, 
he raised a lofty circular edifice, surrounded by a Corinthian 
portico, supported by twenty-four pillars, of a beautiful 
kind of white marble, tinged with purple. The continua- 
tion of the inner wall formed a second story, adorned with 
Ionic pilasters ; and a dome, surmounted by a bronze cone, 
crowned the whole fabric, and gave it the appearance of a 
most majestic temple. To increase its splendour, four 
colossal statues occupied the four corners of the platform ; 
twenty-four adorned the portico, and filled the niches 
between the columns; an equal number rose above the 
entablature, and another series stood between the pilasters 
of the upper story. All these statues were the works of 
the best masters, and the whole building was cased with 
fine marble. This monument, called Moles Hadriani, was 
deemed the noblest sepulchral edifice ever erected, and one 
of the proudest ornaments of Rome, even when she shone 
in all her imperial magnificence. Yet its glory was tran- 
sitory. Its matchless grandeur claimed in vain the pro- 



THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS. 205 

tection of absent emperors. The genius of Hadrian, and 
the manes of the virtuous Antonini, pleaded ineffectually 
for its preservation. The hand of time defaced its orna- 
ments, the zeal of Honorius stripped it of its sculptured 
beauties, and the military skill of Belisarius turned it into 
a temporary fortress. The necessity of such a stronghold 
became from this period daily more apparent. Threatened 
first by the Lombards, then by the German emperors, and 
afterwards by its own lawless nobles, the government saw 
the importance of securing a permanent post ; and found 
none more defensible, both by situation and by structure, 
than the Moles Hadriani, which commanded the river, and 
from its internal solidity might defy all the ancient means 
of assault. The parts which remain, therefore, are such as 
were adapted to this purpose ; that is, a portion of its 
basement or platform, and almost the whole of the central 
circular building, though denuded of all its ornaments. 
The marbles disappeared at an early day, having been 
employed in other buildings, and many of them burned 
into lime ; the pillars were transported to the Basilica of 
San Paolo fuori la Mura, whose nave they still adorn ; 
the statues, despised in a barbarous age, were dashed to 
pieces, built into the wall, or hurled down upon the heads 
of the assailants ; the brazen cone or pine-apple stands in 
a garden in one of the squares of the Vatican Palace ; and 
the sarcophagus which held the imperial ashes is said to be 
one of those in the Corsini Chapel of San Giovanni in La- 
terano. In the course of time, various bastions, ramparts, 
and outworks were added ; several houses for soldiers, pro- 
visions, magazines, and so forth, were raised around ; and 
some very considerable edifices, containing spacious apart- 
ments, erected on the solid mass of the sepulchre itself. It 
takes its present name, Castel Sanf Angelo, from its ap- 
propriation as the Roman citadel, and from the statue of 
an angel standing with outspread wings upon its summit. 
I descended into its dismal vaults, and read the names of 
Hadrian, Commodus, Antoninus Pius, and others of the 
imperial line. And there was the dungeon where poor 
Beatrice Cenci spent two dreary years before her cruel 
execution, with an Italian sentence which she had scratched 
with a nail upon the wall. And there was the cell once 



206 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

occupied by the fiery genius, Benventtto Cellini ; and I 
saw the place from which he fell in trying to make his 
escape, and grieved for his broken leg. And there were 
the apartments of the Holy Inquisition, well filled at pre- 
sent with French soldiers of the merriest mood ; and the 
spacious saloons, covered with frescoes by no means modest, 
to which the Infallible Head of the Church fled through 
his covered way from the Vatican, when he" deemed the 
fortress safer than his palace. Then I ascended to the 
summit, and stood beneath the wings of the bronze angel, 
and looked down on 

' Home's immortal ruins- 
Temples on temples hurled, and tombs on tombs.' 

Is this the Mother of Nations, the Mistress of the World ? 
Nay, this is but her mouldering skeleton, the shreds of her 
wasted shroud, the remnant of her shattered sepulchre. 
Deep under the debris of fifteen centuries lies the Rome 
that was, and over her ashes has arisen another Rome, 
whose stately palaces and gorgeous churches but faintly 
commemorate her perished glory. 

To one but little accustomed to works of unusual gran- 
deur and magnificence, it must be exceedingly difficult to 
form any adequate conception of the majesty and beauty of 
ancient Rome. Strabo, who had traversed Greece in every 
direction, and must have been intimately acquainted with 
the finest things in his own country, and was doubtless, 
like all other Greeks, intensely partial to its glory, de- 
scribes Rome as surpassing expectation, and defying all 
human competition. Constantius, called an ' unfeeling 
prince,' who had visited all the cities of the East, and was 
familiar with the most superb exhibitions of oriental taste 
and splendour, was struck dumb with admiration, as he 
proceeded in triumphal pomp through the city of the 
Caesars. But when he came to the Forum of Trajan, and 
beheld all the wonders of that matchless structure, he 
burst into exclamations of astonishment and delight. 
Fixing his eyes upon the equestrian statue before the 
basilica, he exclaimed : ' Where shall we find such another 
horse?' To which a Persian prince, who accompanied 
him, replied : ' Suppose we find the horse, who will build 
him such another stable V 



THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS. 207 

If the Greeks, so jealous of the arts and edifices of their 
native land — if the emperors of the East, admiring so much 
their own capital, and looking with envy upon the orna- 
ments of the ancient city, were thus obliged to pay an in- 
voluntary tribute to her superior beauty, we may certainly 
pardon the enthusiasm of the Romans themselves, when 
they speak of it as an epitome of the universe, and an 
abode worthy of the gods. And if Yirgil, when Augustus 
had only begun his projected improvements, and the mag- 
nificence of Rome was in its dawn, called it the fairest city 
that the world could boast, we may perhaps conjecture 
what it must have been in the days of Adrian, when it had 
received its final decorations, and blazed in its full meridian 
splendour. 

Ephesus had its Temple of Diana ; Athens boasted its 
Parthenon, and Rhodes its Colossus ; London has its West- 
minster Abbey, and its Saint Paul's ; Paris its Tuileries, 
and its Notre Dame; Cologne and Milan, each its gorgeous 
Gothic Cathedral ; Florence its incomparable Campanile ; 
and modern Rome its unrivalled Basilica Vaticanus. But 
ancient Rome, not, like any of these, distinguished for some 
single edifice, or for several, presented to the eye a conti- 
nuous succession of architectural wonders, and exhibited in 
every view groups and lines of magnificent structures, any 
one of which, taken separately, would have been sufficient 
to constitute the characteristic ornament of any other city 
in the world. 

When we survey what remains of its ruins — its forums, 
temples, palaces, porticoes, basilicas, mausoleums, triumphal 
arches, monumental columns, statues and obelisks, baths 
and fountains, cloacas and aqueducts, circuses, theatres, 
and amphitheatres, with all its elaborate sculpture, and 
mosaic work, and innumerable costly decorations — we are 
overwhelmed with astonishment and admiration at the hint 
thus given of its ancient grandeur and magnificence. 

Where, at the present day, if we except Saint Peter's, 
which is built of the spoils of antiquity, shall we find a re- 
ligious edifice equal in beauty to the Pantheon, in magni- 
tude to the Basilica of Constantine, or in wealth and splen- 
dour to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus ? The tombs 
of Augustus, Hadrian, and Cecilia Metella, in material, 



203 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

altitude, and ornament, equalled, perhaps excelled, the 
Halicarnassean Mausoleum ; and all the theatres of Greece 
sank into insignificance before the enormous circumference 
of the Flavian Amphitheatre. 

The public buildings of ancient Rome were all supported 
by pillars of granite and marble, often of the finest quality 
and the most elaborate workmanship, each shaft consisting 
of a single block. When we consider this circumstance, 
and think of the countless multitude of these ornaments, 
the colonnades which adorned the courts and fronts of all 
the more important edifices, and the stately porticoes, some 
of them a mile or two in length, which surrounded and led 
to them, we are enabled, perhaps, to form a proximate idea 
of the magnificence which must have resulted from the fre- 
quent recurrence and ever-varying combinations of such 
pillared perspectives ; and we cease to wonder that so many 
superb fragments are still found among the ruins, and that 
ancient Rome, after so many centuries of research, is still 
an unexhausted quarry ; and probably the specimens disin- 
terred bear no proportion to the numbers which still lie 
buried beneath the surface. Well might the Romans speak 
of their city with pride, foreigners behold it with astonish- 
ment, and even the calm philosopher in its contemplation 
kindle into poetic raptures. t When these wonders are all 
collected,' says Pliny, ' and as it were thrown together in a 
heap, there arises an infinity of grandeur, as if in that one 
spot we were giving an account of another world/ 

The Romans derived their architectural taste and skill less 
from the Greeks than from their Etruscan neighbours, who 
built massive structures in Italy when Grecian architec- 
ture was yet in its infancy, and who in their works seem 
constantly to have kept in view those great qualities which 
give excellence without the aid of ornament — commanding 
admiration by their own intrinsic merit. The early archi- 
tecture of Rome was entirely Etruscan, as the remains of 
all its most ancient structures abundantly testify. Its chief 
characteristics were solidity, simplicity, and grandeur. It 
resembled, in these respects, the Egyptian ; with forms less 
gigantic, but more graceful. The Cloaca Maxima, con- 
structed in the reign of Tarquinius Superbus, is as perfect 
now as in the day of its completion ; and the mighty sub- 



THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS. 209 

structions of the Capitol, and the vaults of the Tabularium, 
now seen under the palaee of the Roman senator, if allowed 
to remain undisturbed, will be found thousands of years to 
come. These great edifices were of public utility — say, 
rather, of public necessity ; and their grandeur and magni- 
ficence were the result of their destination, not the object of 
their erection. Such were the productions of the first era 
of Roman architecture. 

The second produced the famous roads and aqueducts 
which are to this day among its noblest monuments, and a 
few tombs and temples whose ruins are still admired for 
their simple majesty and strength. The third commenced 
with Augustus, who was content to inhabit a mansion com- 
paratively plain, while he lavished his munificence upon the 
improvement and embellishment of the city. During this 
period, the magnificence which characterized the Roman 
taste was by no means confined to the most important and 
permanent public edifices, but showed itself even in build- 
ings erected for transient and occasional amusements of the 
people. Two instances merit attention. One is that of the 
Edile Marcus Scaurus, who built a temporary theatre, ca- 
pable of containing eighty thousand persons, and adorned it 
with three hundred and sixty columns of marble, and three 
thousand statues of bronze. The other, perhaps, was still 
more astonishing in execution, though less imposing in ap- 
pearance — the erection of a stupendous wooden edifice, by 
Curio, for the celebration of funeral games in honour of his 
father, so contrived that the seats revolved, forming at 
pleasure a theatre or an amphitheatre, without the removal 
of the spectators. These are instances of the prodigality of 
magnificence, and as such they are justly censured by the 
elder Pliny, who ranks them far below the more permanent 
and useful works of the Marcian and Julian aqueducts. 
Yet these were stupendous structures, stupendous in design 
and in execution ; and they show the natural tendency of 
the Roman mind to the grand and wonderful in architec- 
ture. 

Nero was the first who ventured to expend the public 
treasures in the erection of an imperial residence ; and he 
built the Domus Aurea — the golden house — which covered 
the Palatine Hill, and extended over a large portion of the 

p 



210 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Coelean ; a palace which, for beauty and magnificence, pro- 
bably has never been surpassed ; and which was partially 
demolished by his successor, as too gorgeous even for an 
emperor. But baths, forums, temples, porticoes, mauso- 
leums, triumphal arches, and monumental columns, still con- 
tinued the favourite objects of imperial pride and expense ; 
and Rome for three centuries constantly increased in archi- 
tectural beauty. 

Under Diocletian, the empire was divided — the sovereign 
translated to the east, and the capital of the world left to 
the fury and rapacity of the barbarian. With this com- 
menced the fourth era, marked too evidently by declining 
taste, in connection with much of the ancient grandeur. 
The most remarkable edifices of this period were those 
erected by Constantine and the Christian emperors, gene- 
rally after the model, and often with the very materials, of 
the old basilicas. All the churches reared from the fifth 
century to the fifteenth were constructed of the most costly 
materials ; but those materials were generally heaped toge- 
ther with very little regard to proper order, proportion, or 
symmetry. 

At length came a better day. The dawn of Science and 
the Arts succeeded to the stormy night of barbarism. 
Genius was encouraged. The Roman Pontiffs diligently 
sought the best architects, and liberally rewarded their 
labours. These found the finest of materials ready to their 
hand, and the noblest of models constantly before their eyes. 
What was the result ? Did they copy the admirable forms 
and proportions of antiquity ? No : they foolishly sought 
to surpass them. Of course, they failed ; and their failure 
proves, that in proportion as we deviate from the ascient 
copies, we deviate from perfection. The architecture of 
modern Rome, therefore, is characterized by the novel, the 
whimsical, the extravagant, and the grotesque. The finest 
materials have been turned to the most insignificant and 
useless purposes ; and the grand symmetry of the old basi- 
licas and temples has been exchanged for the most fantas- 
tical forms and the most absurd proportions. 

Few modern architects have had greater popularity than 
Borromini, who flourished in the seventeenth century. He 
sought to imitate the soaring genius of Michael Angelo, 



THE TIBER AND THE CAMPUS MARTIUS. 211 

and the result was a ridiculous violation of all rule and pro- 
priety. His successors, preferring his extravagances to the 
simpler majesty of Bramante and Palladio, have left the 
traces of their folly in nearly all the new edifices of the 
city, and the recent repairs and restorations of the old. 
Everywhere we meet with twisted, coupled, or inverted 
pillars, often supporting nothing, or hid away in niches and 
recesses ; with different orders, grouped in the same story, 
or blended in the same object ; with pediments and pilasters, 
varied without necessity, and multiplied beyond all pro- 
priety ; with low stories, called ' mezzanini,' having short 
columns, little windows, and contracted balconies, intro- 
duced between the principal stories ; with broken or inter- 
rupted cornices, alternate angles and curves, arcs of circles 
resembling ruined arches, lines for ever advancing and re- 
ceding, a dazzling display of gilded fretwork, and a prodi- 
gal exhibition of various splendid ornaments. 

I speak only of the prevailing mode. There is some fine 
architecture in Rome ; and passing by St. Peter's, I would 
mention with deference the magnificent basilica of Santa 
Maria Maggiora ; the grand but rather too gorgeous struc- 
ture of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva ; and the new Cathedral 
of Saint Paul, without the walls. The grandeur of some of. 
these modern structures, combined with the majesty of the 
ancient monuments, induced Manton to observe, ' that 
Rome is a map of the world in relievo, presenting to the eye 
the united wonders of Egypt, of Asia, and of Greece.' 

But the glory of man is as the flower of the field. The 
wind passes over it, and it is gone. Even bronze and 
marble will perish ; and the beauty and magnificence which 
flourished proudly for a season, and were fondly deemed 
immortal, have faded, and fallen to decay. Nothing remains 
of ancient Rome, but one dismantled temple, a few dilapi- 
dated arches and columns, and sundry heaps of mouldering 
ruins ; and a few centuries more may strew the seven hills, 
and the Campus Martius, with the wrecks of her modern suc- 
m cessor ; and the future traveller may pause and wonder over 
the relics of pontifical splendour, as we now do over those 
of imperial opulence ; and when I recollect what Rome has 
been for ages — St. Paul's ' mystery of iniquity ' — St. John's 
4 mother of abominations' — the ' beast' and ' dragon,' em- 



212 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

blazoned all over with 'blasphemy' — the * harlot' and 
4 sorceress,' making" ' merchandise of souls,' and 'drunken 
with the blood of the saints,' I cannot help crying with 
those who call from beneath the altar, c How long, O Lord, 
how long ? ,# 

* Those arc sound Protestant sentiments, and do credit to our 
author. — Ed. 






( 213 



CHAPTER XXI. 

HISTORIC NOTICES. 

Koine under the Emperors — Extent of the City — Estimate of 
Population — Vice and Luxury — Gothic Devastation — Feuds of 
the Nobles — Rome of the Middle Ages — Pillage by the Imperial 
Troops — Papal Restorations and Improvements — Sixtus the 
Fifth — Subsequent Popes — French Occupation under Napoleon. 
— Pio Nono. 

Mighty is the spirit of the past amid the ruins of the Eternal City. 

Longfellow. 

' I found it of brick ; I shall leave it of marble.' So said 
Augustus of Rome, and history verifies the word. From 
the reign of this emperor dates the architectural splendour 
of the city. Utility, not ornament, had hitherto been aimed 
at in the public buildings ; and the dwellings of princes and 
patricians, however spacious, were comparatively unadorned. 
Now arose magnificent palaces, theatres, and temples ; and 
stately colonnades of snowy marble crowned the Capitoline 
Hill, and crowded the Campus Martius. Claudius followed 
in the footsteps of Augustus ; and Nero outdid them both, 
in taste as much as cruelty. Trajan contributed largely to 
the improvement of the public works ; and Hadrian ex- 
pended for the same purpose immense labour and treasure. 
Then came the Antonini, with redoubled assiduity ; whose 
example was so effective, that every wealthy citizen deemed 
it both a duty and an honour to aid in beautifying the 
metropolis. Rome became a city of palaces and temples, 
adorned everywhere with lofty porticoes, triumphal arches, 
Egyptian obelisks, monumental columns, colossal statues, 
stupendous aqueducts ; with numerous baths and fountains, 
groves and gardens, lakes and reservoirs, for the public con- 
venience ; and numerous circuses and naumachias, theatres 
and amphitheatres, and other similar institutions, for the 
public amusement. 

Meanwhile the population so increased, that it was neces- 
sary to extend the limits of the city. The wall of Servius 
Tullius was seven miles in circuit; that of Aurelian, 



214 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

thirteen miles. c If any man,' says Dionysius, ' beholding 
the buildings which had sprung up, wished to calculate the 
size of the city, he would certainly have erred, since he 
could not have found any mark to distinguish how far the 
town spread, and where it ended, insomuch that the suburbs 
united to Rome gave the spectator the idea of a city 
extended ad infinitum? This description relates to the 
time of Augustus. Of course the Tullian wall was useless 
for the defence of the suburbs ; and therefore the Aurelian, 
at a later period of the empire, was thrown around the 
whole. Many ancient structures, as they stood, were taken 
into the line of this new enclosure ; such as the Pretorian 
barracks, the Castrensian Amphitheatre, the Pyramid of 
Caius Cestius, and the arches of the Claudian and Marcian 
aqueducts ; which still being conspicuous, give to this 
venerable rampart a most singular and interesting appear- 
ance. 

The population of Pome, at any given period, is a 
matter somewhat difficult to determine. The vagueness of 
the data on which our calculations must be based, renders 
hopeless any attempt at a definite conclusion. As might 
be expected, therefore, modern investigations of the subject 
differ widely in their results, the estimates of some learned 
men being three or four times as great as those of oihers. 
Dureau, in his Economie Politique des JRomains, sets 
down the population, for the period of Pome's greatest 
prosperity, at 562,000 souls. Hoch, in his Romiche 
Geschichte, estimates it at 2,265,000. Dequincey, in the 
Csesars, thinks it amounted to not less than 4,000,000, and 
perhaps half as many more. Lipsius, in his work De 
Magnitudine JRomana, carries it up to the astonishing 
number of 8,000,000. Dr. Smith, in the article Homa, 
iu his Dictionary of Greek and Poman Geography, 
has dealt largely and learnedly with the question, basing 
his calculation on the number of citizens who received the 
imperial largesses, doubtless the surest data on which we 
can rely. Proceeding thus, he concludes that the male 
plebeian population of Pome, during the first centuries of 
the empire, must have numbered not less than 350,000 ; 
and at least twice as many must be added for the women 
and children, giving a total of 1,050,000. Then, by 



HISTORIC NOTICES. 215 

another elaborate process, he fixes the number of knights 
and senators at the moderate figure of 15,000 ; and, allow- 
ing a wife and one child to every man, makes the whole 
number of individuals composing the equestrian and sena- 
torial families 45,000. These sums give a total of 
1 ,090,000, for all the free inhabitants, of all classes. To 
these he adds the aliens and foreigners residing at Rome, 
amounting, as he modestly supposes, with their families, to 
] 00,000 ; and the soldiers and police, with their families, 
to 50,000 ; which, added to the foregoing, makes 
1,245,000, for the entire miscel'aneous free population of 
the city. Concerning the number of slaves, there is no 
satisfactory data, only it is known to have been very 
great. ; many persons, as Tigellius, owning 200 ; others, as 
Pedanius Secundus, 400. Dr. Smith sets down the num- 
ber of domestic slaves at 500,000 ; and those employed in 
trades, manufactures, the service of public officers, and so 
forth, at 300,000 ; making in all 800,000. This number, 
added to that of the free inhabitants, gives a total of 
2,045,000, for the whole population of Rome, in the time 
of Vespasian and Trajan. By another calculation, based 
on data entirely different, our author makes it 2,075,000. 
On the whole, we may safely say, perhaps, it was not less 
than 2,000,000. 

The emperors, in general, sought not the extension of 
the Roman dominion, but were satisfied with the preserva- 
tion of what the republic had won. Augustus bequeathed 
to his successors a valuable legacy, in his advice to confine 
the empire within those limits which nature seemed to have 
prescribed ; and this was still its extent in the time of the 
Antonini ; from the Atlantic to the Euphrates, and from 
the Rhine and the Danube to the deserts of Africa and 
Arabia ; more than three thousand miles one way, and 
two thousand the other ; embracing an area of sixteen hun- 
dred thousand square miles, and comprehending the whole 
civilized world, with many barbarous nations. After 
Antoninus Pius, public virtue rapidly declined, and high 
places became rife with corruption. Then the empire 
was divided, and at length put up for sale to the highest 
bidder, and ruled by a succession of the most despicable 
mercenary tyrants. Alexander Severus, Claudius II., 



216 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Aurelian, Tacitus, and Probus, each in his turn, stemmed 
the torrent of vice, and averted for a season the impending 
ruin. But when Constantine transferred the imperial seat 
to Byzantium, Home became an easy prey, and was several 
times sacked and burned by the barbarians. The luxurious 
and effeminate habits of the Romans rendered them indif- 
ferent to the public interest, and disqualified them for self- 
protection. When Alaric came, he found them sunk to the 
lowest degree of vicious effeminacy, void of all noble and 
patriotic sentiments, and wholly absorbed with these two 
great thoughts — • partem et circensesj' That this satirical 
representation of an earlier time was now more than ever 
applicable, appears from the following description by Am- 
mianus Marcellinus : — 

' Their long robes of purple silk float in the wind ; and 
as they are agitated by art or accident, they discover the 
under garments, the rich tunics, embroidered with the 
figures of various animals. Followed by a train of fifty 
servants, and tearing up the pavement in their impetuous 
course, they rush along the streets as if travelling with 
post-horses. And the example of the senators is boldly 
imitated by the matrons and ladies, whose covered car- 
riages are continually driving round the immense space of 
the city and suburbs. Whenever these persons of high 
distinction condescend to visit the public baths, they assume 
a tone of loud and insolent command, and appropriate to 
their own use the conveniences which were designed for 
the Roman people. As soon as they have indulged them- 
selves in the refreshments of the bath, they resume their 
rings, and the other ensigns of their dignity ; select from 
their private wardrobe of the finest linen, such as might 
suffice for a dozen persons, the garments most agreeable to 
their fancy ; and maintain till their departure the same 
haughty demeanour, which perhaps might have been ex- 
cused in the great Marcellus, after the conquest of Syra- 
cuse. Sometimes, indeed, these heroes undertake more 
arduous achievements, visiting their estates in Italy, and 
procuring for themselves, by the toil of servile hands, the 
amusements of the chase. If at any time, but more espe- 
cially in a hot day, they have the courage to sail in their 
painted galleys from the Lucrine Lake to their elegant 



HISTORIC NOTICES. 217 

villas on the sea coast of Puteoli and Caieta, they compare 
their expeditions to the marches of Caesar and Alexander. 
Yet, should a fly presume to settle on the silken folds of 
their gilded umbrellas, or should a sunbeam penetrate 
through some unobserved and imperceptible chink, they 
complain of their intolerable hardships, and lament that 
they were not born in the land of the Cimmerians, the 
region of perpetual darkness.' 

Such were the Roman nobility. No wonder the bar- 
barian found them an easy prey, Their slaves and 
domestics, trained in such a school, and longing to revenge 
their many wrongs, were ready for any act of treachery. 
At midnight, the Salarian gate was opened, and the sound 
of the Gothic trumpet awoke the slumbering city. Of the 
scene of fury and indiscriminate slaughter which ensued, it 
were vain to attempt the description. Many fine buildings 
were burned, and the remains of the Sallustian palace still 
attest the conflagration. Others were rudely stripped of 
their splendid furniture ; and sideboards of massy plate, 
and wardrobes of silk and purple, were promiscuously 
piled into the waggons of the conqueror. The most exqui- 
site works of art were wantonly destroyed ; marble statues 
shattered by the battle-axe, those of bronze melted down 
for the sake of the metal, with rich vases of gold and sil- 
ver. Six days proceeded the work of pillage and devasta- 
tion, at the end of which the once proud mistress of the 
world presented a spectacle for universal pity. 

During the reign of Theoclosius, in the year 426, the 
Christians destroyed many of the ancient temples, digging 
up their very foundations. Then came the Vandals and 
the Moors, in 455, and repeated for fourteen days the 
scenes before enacted by the Goths. They despoiled the 
imperial palace, stripped the gilt bronze from the roofs of 
the capitol, transferred to the ships of Genseric whatever 
of value they could find, and, with the empress and many 
noble captives, conveyed it away to Africa. In 472 the 
city was again sacked by Recimer, whose rapacity was 
equalled only by his cruelty. About 540, Vitiges deso- 
lated the Campagna, and destroyed the aqueducts. In 546, 
Totila the Goth demolished much of the wall, pulled down 
many palaces, and drove the people into exile. 



218 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

The Romans themselves now carried on the work which 
the barbarians had begun. The monuments of consular or 
imperial greatness, no longer revered, were regarded only 
as cheap and convenient ' quarries ; and the degenerate 
nobles destroyed the works of their ancestors, to rebuild the 
city or adorn their own dwellings. Many massive struc- 
tures were demolished to repair the walls, the tomb of the 
Scipios furnished the chief material for several palaces, the 
marble which encased the sepulchre of Csecilia Metella was 
burned into lime, and the churches were beautified with 
columns of serpentine, alabaster, pavonazzetto, giallo 
antico, and oriental granite, from the ancient baths and 
theatres. Conflagrations, inundations, and earthquakes 
aided the work of ruin. In the seventh and eighth centu- 
ries, famine and pestilence repeatedly threatened the 
depopulation of the place. Misery and wretchedness, 
scarcely equalled in the history of the world, now over- 
spread Italy, and that beautiful country was reduced 
almost to the condition of a desert. In the latter part of 
the eleventh century, the Normans and Saracens, under 
Robert Guiscard, ravaged the city with fire and sword ; 
but the havoc which they wrought was exceeded by the 
effects of the civil wars which followed, Rome at this 
time consisted of churches, monasteries, and huge unshapely 
towers, mingling with the glorious monuments of antiquity 
which still remained. The ferocious aristocracy erected 
some new fortresses, but generally seized upon the finest 
structures of the empire, and converted them into fortifi- 
cations during their bloody feuds. These detestable 
wretches neither respected the living nor revered the dead. 
Monuments of the piety of other ages, the sacred resting- 
places of sages, heroes, and emperors, they desecrated and 
abused. The tombs of Augustus, Hadrian, and Cecilia 
Metella were occupied as fortresses, and battered by the 
projectiles of war. A writer of those times regrets that 
though what remained could never be equalled, what had 
been ruined could never be repaired. And Petrarch thus 
eloquently deplores the fate of the Historic City : ' Behold 
the relics of Rome, the image of her pristine greatness ! 
Neither time nor the barbarian can boast the merit of this 
stupendous destruction. It was perpetrated by her own 



HISTORIC NOTICES. 219 

citizens, by the most illustrious of her sons ; and your 
ancestors have done with the battering-ram what the 
Punic hero could not accomplish with the sword.' 

During the absence of the popes, in the thirteenth and 
fourteenth centuries, while they held their seat at Avignon, 
the Neapolitans carried off much valuable material for the 
decoration of their own capital, and Rome was wasted by 
numerous depredations. ' When Eugenius IV.,' says 
Ranke, ' returned to Rome in the year 1443, it was be- 
come a city of herdsmen ; its inhabitants were not distin- 
guishable from the peasants of the neighbouring country. 
The hills had long been abandoned, and the only part in- 
habited was the plain along the windings of the Tiber ; 
there was no pavement in the narrow streets, and these 
were rendered yet darker by the balconies and buttresses 
which propped one house against another. The cattle 
wandered about as in a village. From San Silvestro to 
the Porta del Popolo, all was garden and marsh, the haunt 
of flocks of wild ducks. The very memory of antiquity 
seemed almost effaced ; the Capitol was become the Goats' 
Hill, the Forum Roman um the Cows' Field ; the strangest 
legends were associated with the few remaining monu- 
ments.' 

The return of the pope was the signal for renewed 
violence on the part of the Romans themselves. The 
people and the Church were arrayed against each other, 
the Colonna and Orsini families contended for the towers, 
fortifications were erected on every ruin, and Rome was 
again battered by engines, and deluged with blood. Then 
came ' the learned Poggius,' and sat him down upon a 
shattered column on the Capitoline Hill, and mused in 
this melancholy mood over the sad vicissitudes of the 
Eternal City : — 

Q Her primeval state, such as she might appear in a 
remote age, when Evander entertained the stranger of 
Troy, has been delineated by the fancy of Virgil. This 
Tarpeian rock was then a savage and solitary thicket : in 
the time of the poet, it was crowned with the golden roofs 
of a temple; the temple is overthrown, the gold has been 
pillaged, the wheel of fortune has accomplished her revo- 
lution, and the sacred ground is again disfigured with 



?20 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

thorns and brambles. The hill of the Capitol, on which 
we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman empire, the 
citadel of the earth, the terror of kings ; illustrated by the 
footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils 
and tributes of so many nations. This spectacle of the 
world, how is it fallen ! how changed ! how defaced ! the 
path of victory is obliterated by vines, and the benches of 
the senators are concealed by a dunghill. Cast your eyes 
on the Palatine Hill, and seek, among the shapeless and 
enormous fragments, the marble theatre, the obelisks, the 
colossal statues, the porticoes of Nero's palace , survey the 
other hills of the city, the vacant space is interrupted only 
by ruins and gardens. The Forum of the Roman people, 
where they assembled to enact their laws and elect their 
magistrates, is now enclosed for the cultivation of pot- 
herbs, or thrown open for the reception of swine and buf- 
faloes. The public and private edifices, that were founded 
for eternity, lie prostrate, naked and broken, like the limbs 
of a mighty giant ; and the ruin is the more visible from 
the stupendous relics that have survived the injuries of time 
and fortune.' 

Pope Nicholas resolutely began the work of restoration. 
Julius II. followed nobly in his footsteps. Under him 
arose the magnificent Basilica of St. Peter. He also re- 
stored the Palace of the Vatican, added the Loggie, 
founded the Museum, and completed the Cancellaria. His 
cardinals and barons emulated his example, and erected 
palaces which are still the grandest in Rome. Farnese 
built his with blocks of travertine from the Coliseum ; 
Chigi employed in the decoration of his the matchless 
hand of Raffello ; the Medici filled theirs with every 
treasure of literature and art ; the Orsini beautified theirs, 
within and without, with the most costly productions of 
the pencil and the chisel ; and Francesco di Riaro boasted 
that his would stand till tortoises should crawl over the 
face of the earth. 

Other improvements were made under Leo the Tenth. 
' The ruins of Rome,' says Ranke, ' were regarded with a 
kind of religious veneration : in them the divine spark of 
the antique spirit was recognised with a sort of rapture.' 
The pope sought to preserve the remains of the ancient 



HISTORIC NOTICES. 221 

city, and laboured to increase the architectural beauty of the 
new. It was a time of great emulation and universal pros- 
perity. Men of genius and talent were sought out and 
encouraged. The population grew rapidly ; many fine 
buildings rose upon the Campo Marzo, and Rome soon 
recovered much of her former wealth and splendour. 

Then came that terrible era in the annals of Roman 
misfortune, the siege and occupation of the city by the 
troops of Charles the Fifth, in 1527. ' Never,' says 
"Whiteside, * did a richer booty fall into the hands of a 
more remorseless army ; never was there a more protracted 
and more ruinous pillage.' It proceeded without interrup- 
tion four months, and the fury of the Goths and Vandals 
was the very blandness of Christian charity in the com- 
parison. ' The splendour of Rome,' says Ranke, ' fills the 
beginning of the sixteenth century, marking the astonish- 
ing period of development of the human mind ; with this 
day it was extinguished for ever/ 

Pius the Fourth, in 1559, conceived the project of 
building again on the deserted hills. He founded the 
palace of the Conservatori on Monte Capitolino ; and 
employed Michael Angelo to construct, out of the ruins 
of the Baths of Diocletian on the Viminale, the magni- 
ficent church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. In 1585 
Sixtus the Fifth ascended the papal throne, and stamped 
his name imperishably upon Rome. To the taste of a 
Franciscan monk, uniting the ambition and enterprise of 
the Caesars, he demolished ' the ugly antiquities,' as he 
called them, and filled the modern city with splendour 
f romtheir spoils. He tore down the beautiful Septizonium 
of Severus, and transferred its columns to the Basilica 
Vaticanus. The sublime monument of Caecilia Metella, 
the only considerable vestige remaining of the old republic, 
he would have levelled to the ground, had he not been in 
good time prevented. The Laocoon and the Apollo Bel- 
videre he could scarcely tolerate in the Vatican. He de+ 
clared that the Jupiter Tonans should be removed from 
the Capitol, or he would pull down the building: he 
would have no heathen gods in his Christian Rome. The 
Minerva he suffered to remain, having converted her, by 
taking the spear out of her hand, and putting in its place 



222 THE AMERICAN PASTOll IN EUROPE. 

an enormous cross. In a similar manner he converted the 
monumental columns of Trajan and Antonine ; placing 
St. Peter with the keys upon the former, and St, Paul 
with a sword upon the latter ; imagining that by such 
means he gave a triumph to Christianity over Paganism. 
With immense labour he reared the fine Egyptian obelisk 
in front of St. Peter's, enclosing i a piece of the true cross ' 
upon its summit ; also that in the Piazza del Popolo } and 
those near the Santa Maria Maggiore and the San Gio- 
vanni in Later ano. He laid out several fine streets, and 
built the steps from the Piazza di Spagna to the Trinita 
de Monti. He repaired the Marcian Aqueduct, christen- 
ing it Aqua Felice, which feeds twenty-seven fountains, and 
yields more than twenty thousand cubic feet of water a day. 
In this great work, as he declares, he suffered himself ' to be 
deterred by no difficulty or expense, in order that those 
hills, which, even in early Christian times, were graced with 
basilicas, distinguished for the salubrity of the air, the 
pleasantness of the situation, and the beauty of the views, 
might once more be inhabited.' He took the bronze from 
the roof of the Pantheon, to make the magnificent haldi- 
chino, with its huge twisted columns, over the high altar 
of St. Peter's. The dome of that wondrous structure was 
still wanting ; and so anxious was he to see it completed, 
that he employed six hundred men upon it night and day 
for three years and a half, though he did not live to witness 
the consummation of the work. Thus the papal despot 
effected some of the most useful improvements in Rome, 
while he destroyed many of the finest remains of an- 
tiquity. 

The condition of the city in the middle of the sixteenth 
century, however, was still, for the mass of the inhabitants, 
sufficiently miserable. Ostentatious display was preferred 
to popular utility. The nobles dwelt in sumptuous palaces, 
peopled with the precious things of art, and surrounded 
with spacious gardens and shady avenues ; while the mal- 
ordinate casaccie of the common people, propped up with 
buttresses, and crumbling in ruinous decay, were situated 
in narrow, dirty, and un ventilated lanes. What is now the 
Piazza del Popolo was a huddle of dilapidated buildings, 
more wretched in appearance than an American can well 



HISTORIC NOTICES. 223 

imagine. Alexander the Seventh was now upon the papal 
throne. Fortunately, the Queen of Sweden paid a visit to 
His Holiness. It was important that Her Majesty should 
have a grand passage whereby to enter the Capital of the 
Christian world. So the place was cleared of its ruinous 
encumbrances, and converted into the present spacious 
piazza ; which, with its twin crescents, twin fountains, twin 
churches, twin palaces, beautiful Egyptian obelisk, cypress- 
shaded terrace along the Tiber, laurel hedges looking down 
from the Pincian acclivity, and three broad streets diverg- 
ing fanwise through the city, is the most delightful locality 
of modern Rome. 

Pius the Sixth did something, Pius the Seventh more, 
toward the improvement and embellishment of the city ; 
but during its four years' occupation by the French under 
Napoleon, from 1809 to 1814, excavations and restorations 
were projected and begun, which, if the plan had been car- 
ried out, would have proved an incalculable benefit. Eng- 
lish jealousy and prejudice have done great injustice to the 
French government in reference to its Italian conquests, 
and it has unfortunately been the fashion for English 
tourists and essayists to indulge in severe reflections against 
the French nation on that account. True, we cannot 
justify the rapacity which plundered so many palaces and 
churches of their finest ornaments, but neither ought we to 
overlook the enlightened and noble designs of the conqueror 
for the improvement of the Roman metropolis. The in- 
teresting work of the Emperor's Prefet, Count de Tourrion, 
affords us some valuable information on this subject. The 
Italian campaign of 1798 he very properly condemns as 
an ' irruption spoliatrice et revolutionaire' and then adds : 
6 If, during that first invasion, Rome paid a portion of the 
tribute imposed by the conqueror in the sacrifice of her 
statues and her most precious pictures, during the second 
occupation Rome witnessed not only the religious preser- 
vation of what had been left her, but also the watchful care 
of the government for the restoration of her ancient monu- 
ments.' Raffaello, in a curious letter to Leo the Tenth, 
had proposed the removal of the modern accumulations, the 
thorough clearance of the ground to the original level, 
bringing to light the foundations of consular and im- 



224 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

perial Eome ; but it was left for the stranger and usurper 
to undertake a work which the imbecile vicegerents of 
Jehovah did not care to execute. ' What an inexhaustible 
mine of wealth,' said that same Leo, ' do we find the fable 
concerning Jesus Christ !' albeit ten times as much of that 
wealth was squandered upon his pleasures as was devoted 
to the improvement of his capital. 

The French administration applied one million francs a 
year to this great enterprise, half of which was advanced 
from the treasury, the remainder furnished by the city. 
In order to carry out their project, it was necessary to pur- 
chase and pull down many modern dwellings, stables, and 
granaries, churches and monasteries ; to dig trenches to 
carry off the rain-w r ater, and build walls around the spaces 
excavated. They cleared the ground at the foot of the 
Capitoline Mount, and brought to light the ancient Rostra 
of the Great Forum, the marble podium of the Temple of 
Concord, the three fine pillars which belonged to that of 
Vespasian, and what remains of the Portico of the Scuola 
Zanta. They demolished the unsightly structures which 
concealed the Triumphal Arch of Septimius Severus, and 
the stately porch of the Temple of Saturn ; isolated the 
column of Phocus, and those of the Curia Julia ; and re- 
vealed the incomparable beauty of the structure erected 
by the Roman senate in honour of the conqueror of Jeru- 
salem. They uncovered the marble pavement of the 
Basilica of Constantine, which lay some thirty feet beneath 
the surface, so that ' the three colossal vaults recovered 
their grand proportions ;' and ' laid bare the base of the 
Temple of Venus and Eome, w r here w r as found a prodigious 
quantity of precious remains of the Golden House of 
Nero.' They removed the earth which had accumulated 
in the Portico of Antoninus and Faustina, and brought to 
view the bases of the columns of Cipoline marble ; at the 
foot of which was found, in perfect preservation, the pave- 
ment of the Via Sacra, ' where seemed imprinted yet the 
steps of the conquerors marching to the Capitol, and those 
of the vanquished dragged to the Mamertine Prison.' 
They cleared away the soil which had grown up on all 
sides around the Coliseum, strengthened its broken walls, 
cemented its gaping vaults, and uncovered the flags of its 



HISTORIC NOTICES. 225 

pavement ; c so that this majestic monument, which was 
under the reign of Titus a bloody circus, under Diocletian 
the theatre of Christian martyrdom, in the middle ages the 
fortress of the Frangipani, and in our days a sacredly- 
revered Calvary, will be able yet for a long time to justify 
the fine expression of Delille — 

" Sa mass indestructible a fatigue le temps." ' 

They restored to the daylight the subterranean arabesques 
of the Baths of Titus ; disengaged from the surrounding 
granaries the Arch of Janus Quadrifons ; demolished the 
dwellings which hid the Temples of Yesta and For tuna 
Virilis ; cleared a large space around the column of Trajan 
and the Ulpian Basilica; began excavating the base of the 
Pantheon, and prepared for tearing down the hideous 
belfries which disfigure its beautiful facade ; took such 
measures as were necessary for the improvement and pre- 
servation of many of those ancient buildings which Con- 
stantine converted into churches ; and, in short, projected 
a plan for the disinterment of the venerable monuments of 
antiquity — the resurrection of imperial Rome. The details 
of this whole project, so important to archaeology and the 
arts, are presented in the map of the Count de Tournon — 
a noble design, which will never be executed under the 
papal administration. 

What has the present Napoleon done for Rome ? He 
has sent an army to bombard the city, brought back His 
Fugitive Infallibility from exile, forced upon a long- 
oppressed people a despotism which they heartily despise, 
and perpetuated a curse which has blighted Italy for ages. 
What has Pio Nono done for Rome ? He has blessed the 
faithful annually from the balcony of Saint Peter's, showed 
them occasionally the handkerchief of the blessed Santa 
Veronica, furnished them grand pyrotechnical displays 
upon the Pincio, given them dispensations from duty and 
indulgences for sin, made a pilgrimage or two in their 
behalf to the Holy House at Loretto, erected a Corinthian 
column to the Virgin in honour of her immaculate con- 
ception, laid the corner-stone of a convent at the lately 
opened catacomb of Sant' Alessandro, excavated a few 
furlongs of the ancient Appian Way, built bridges at 



226 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Lariccia and Gensano, and otherwise improved the road to 
Gaeta. And what, meanwhile, are the Roman people 
doing? They are laughing bitterly at the imbecile dotard 
of the triple crown ; and execrating his master, the wily 
Antonelli ; and working a dark cuniculus beneath the 
Vatican palace ; and sending assassins and infernal 
machines to Paris ; and brooding in sullen wrath over the 
wrongs of their friends, who for eight years past have pined 
in dungeons ; and appealing to Heaven against the double 
tyranny which they have so long silently endured. 

The day of redress must come — the day of redress and 
retribution. There is no hope for Antichrist : God hath 
written his doom. There is no hope for Italy, but in the 
predicted subversion of his power. Let French cannon 
protect his palace, and French bayonets prop his tottering 
throne: both he and they -shall be 'as the chaff of the 
mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before 
the whirlwind !' Antichrist cannot endure: the curse of 
Heaven is upon him, and ' hell is moved from beneath to 
meet him at his coming.' Even while I write come tidings 
from Italy of fourteen thousand people whelmed in the 
ruins of failing cities — an awful warning to the hoary 
blasphemer of the Vatican ! And when I saw him lately 
reeling to and fro, in his lofty chair, sick from the unsteady 
motion of those who bore him upon their shoulders, as he 
passed at the head of his gorgeous procession along the 
nave of the grand basilica, I seemed to recognize in him 
the symbol led mystagogue of the Apocalypse, ' drunken 
w r ith the blood of the saints,' and staggering upon the 
brink of that ' lake of fire ' into which he is fated ere long 
to fall !* 

*A fate nearer in this year 1860 than most people suppose.— Ed. 



( 227 ) 



CHAPTER XXII. 



BASILICA VATICAISTJS. 



View from a distance— View from the Piazza — The Interior — 
The Eoof— The Dome— The Ball. 

c From whatever part of the surrounding country you look 
at Rome, the object that chiefly strikes the eye and the 
mind is St. Peter's : in visible as in moral impression, it 
forms in modern times the great representative feature of 
the Historic City.' 

So writes the American poet, Horace Binney Wallace ; 
and having for four months viewed this wonder of architec- 
ture from various distances in every direction, and having 
wandered through its vast interior solitudes, and surveyed 
its infinite wealth of decoration, and walked its spacious 
roof, and climbed its gorgeous dome, I am prepared to 
adopt the sentiment, though I cannot go to the full extent 
with the enthusiastic author in his views of the sanctity and 
religious influence of the place. 

I have seen St. Peter's from the distant hill-slopes of 
Tivoli. My view was athwart the vast Campagna, covered, 
as it always is, with a soft purple haze, and bounded in the 
distance by the blue line of the Mediterranean. Nothing 
else was to be seen of the seven-hilled metropolis, not a 
turret nor a tower, not a battlement nor a spire. But from 
the centre of the sombre plan the whole dome of St. Peter's 
loomed up against the bright horizon — dark, weird, porten- 
tous, as if painted upon the sky. The Campagna looked 
like an ocean, and St. Peter's like a huge ship, sailing alone 
upon its dusty waters. 

I have seen it from the Alban Mount, and the Tomb of 
Pompey, and the Tusculan Villa of Cicero. A dreary 
waste lay before me, strewn with the wrecks of an empire. 
For nearly fifteen miles my eye ranged along a continuous 
street of sepulchres, among which stood conspicuous those 
of Messalla Corvinus and Cecilia Metella ; and nearly 



228 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

parallel with this, for half the distance, bestriding the de- 
solation, were seen the gigantic arches of the Marcian, 
Julian, and Claudian aqueducts, like vast thousand-footed 
monsters marching over the plain ; and beyond them stood 
the majestic Coliseum, and the ruin-strewn Palatine, with 
the domes and towers and palaces of modern Rome — all 
that rears itself aloft of the world's great mistress — all that 
remains of republican or imperial grandeur — everything 
melted by the golden richness of the languid atmosphere 
into an airy and mystical spectre of departed power. But 
above the pale masses of the city still rose that mighty 
vision — strange, solemn, mysterious — making all else seem 
utterly insignificant in the panorama. St. Peter's is the 
real Roman eagle, and the surrounding palaces and temples 
are but the nestlings that crouch timidly beneath its wings. 
Nay, St. Peter's is Rome itself, and all the rest are but 
suburban villas. 

I have seen it from the Via Aurelia, fifteen miles distant, 
from the hills that surround the site of the Etruscan Yeii, 
from the Tiber-washed mound where perched the lofty 
citadel of Fidene, from the nearer elevation which in the 
days of Romulus sustained the arx of Antemne, from a 
hundred other eminences in every direction over the un- 
dulating Campagna, from Monte Mario and the Janiculum, 
from the gardens of the Quirinal and the palace of the 
Caesars, from the Tarpeian Rock and the belfries of the 
Campidoglio, from the arches of the Coliseum and the 
statued parapets of St. John Lateran — through the purple 
haze of the morning air, through the sapphire blue of the 
cloudless noontide, through the shifting tints of the gor- 
geous sunset, and through the soft gray mist of the evening 
twilight. Yet St. Peter's was ever the same — grand, awful, 
impressive — even at the greatest distance, filling the eye 
and elevating the soul ; and, as it was approached, swelling 
into a vastness, and assuming a magnificence, which only 
astonishment and wonder could embrace. There it stood, 
the proud representative of pontifical splendour, looking 
down in solemn mockery upon the crumbling memorials of 
imperial opulence ; though inferior, doubtless, in its extent, 
and the style of its architecture, to many of the structures 
of the ancient city, yet, in the profusion and costliness of 



BASILICA VATICANUS. 229 

its decorations, and the sublimity of its soaring altitude, 
equalling if not surpassing the palace of Nero, the forum 
of Trajan, the theatre of Mareellus, the mausoleum of 
Hadrian, the thermae of Diocletian, the basilica of Constan- 
tine, or the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. 

Never will the impression produced upon me be forgotten, 
when, as we drew near the Porta Cavalleggieri, on our 
arrival from Civita Vecchia, the great dome lifted itself 
over the wall, like a volcanic mountain suddenly thrown 
up into the evening sky. Never shall I forget the moment 
when, as we dashed along the circling forest of marble 
columns enclosing the broad piazza, with a thousand lamps 
gleaming through its thousand vistas, the architectural 
immensity first broke upon my view in all the majesty of 
its entireness. Still higher rose my admiration, when after- 
wards I entered that grand colonnade, and took a leisurely 
survey of the unrivalled basilica. The former vision was 
dim and indistinct — a gigantic frame without the picture ; 
yet within the vast outline the imagination found ample 
scope, and the obscurity of the object perhaps impressed 
me the more with its grandeur. But now the veil was re- 
moved, and the mighty dome rose through the violet atmo- 
sphere into the fairest of Italian skies ; and the several parts 
of the great basilica, in their fine proportions, and with 
their countless ornaments, stood forth in clear and perfect 
vision. What pencil shall paint its glories ! ' Some things,' 
says Mabillon, when he beheld this mighty structure, i are 
never more adequately praised than by silence and amaze- 
ment.' c I saw St. Peter's,' says the poet Gray, ' and was 
struck dumb with admiration.' One can scarcely look upon 
it without feeling that St. Peter's is Rome, and Rome what 
Pliny described it — 'the world in miniature.' The wealth 
of an empire is within its walls, and the genius of ages has 
been exhausted in its decoration. The vastness of its 
dimensions, and the elevation of its matchless cupola, 
suggest at once the idea of all that is grand or magnificent 
in the deeds or productions of men. Nor less suggestive is 
it of solidity and strength ; it seems built for eternity. 
Yet the palace of the Caesars is not, and the walls of the 
Coliseum are crumbling, and the time shall be when no 
vestige shall remain of the Eternal City. 



230 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

As you enter the circular court in front of the edifice, 
the lofty colonnade that surrounds you, crowned with its 
numerous statues ; the beautiful Egyptian obelisk, a hun- 
dred and thirty feet high, occupying the centre of the area ; 
the two perpetual water-jets, falling in feathery spray into 
their porphyry basins ; the vast buildings of the Vatican, 
a little city, overlooking the entablature and balustrade of 
the galleria on the right — impressive as they would be in 
any other situation, are objects scarcely noticed in the pre- 
sence of St. Peter's. Before you, raised on three successive 
flights of marble steps, extending four hundred feet in 
length, and towering to an elevation of a hundred and 
eighty, supported by huge Corinthian pillars and pilasters, 
and adorned with an attic, a balustrade, and thirteen colossal 
statues, you behold the front of the cathedral. Far behind 
and above rises the dome, like another Pantheon, suspended 
in the sky, its base surrounded and strengthened by a colon- 
nade of coupled pillars, the colonnade surmounted by a 
graceful attic, the attic by the majestic swell of the convex 
r oof, the apex of the roof by a circular cluster of columns 
nclosing the lantern, and this again by the pyramid which 
ears the ball and the cross into the infinite azure. 
Enter one of the five stupendous portals before you. 
You find yourself in a grand cathedral, paved with varie- 
gated marble, covered with a stupendous gilded vault, and 
adorned with numerous pillars and pilasters, mosaic figures, 
bas-reliefs, and statues — a hall into which you might pile 
five or six of your largest American churches, for it is four 
hundred feet in length, seventy in height, and fifty in 
breadth. Yet this is but the vestibule of St. Peter's. 
Lift aside the heavy matted curtain, and enter the body of 
the church. The most extensive hall ever constructed by 
human hands opens in magnificent perspective before you. 
Advance up the nave, and admire the variegated marble 
beneath your feet y and the golden vault above your head ; 
the lofty Corinthian pilasters, with their bold and beautiful 
entablatures ; the intermediate niches, with their numerous 
colossal statues ; and the magnificent arcades, with the 
graceful figures that recline upon their curves. Approach 
the foot of the altar, and from this central position con- 
template the four superb vistas that open around you — the 



BASILICA VATIC ANUS. 231 

four stupendous piers that support the massive dome — the 
many altars and sepulchral monuments, with their groups 
of exquisite sculpture — the wreaths and festoons, crosses 
and tiaras, angels and medallions, all of the rarest marbles 
and finest workmanship, representing the effigies of the 
different pontiffs, which everywhere adorn the walls ; and 
then raise your eyes to the wonderful cupola that spans 
the whole like a firmament — so grand in its design, so pro- 
digious in its altitude, and rich beyond all parallel in its 
decoration — at once enchanting the eye, satisfying the 
taste, and filling the soul with a sense of calm sublimity. 

What a world of wonders is around you ! Whence all 
these precious marbles and metals — this profusion of gems 
and gold ? Who devised and executed these beautiful 
mosaics ? Who chiselled these glorious forms from the 
solid stone ? How soft the solar beams streaming in from 
the lofty windows ! How sweet the perfumed air through 
which they float ! There is no summer nor winter here : 
it is the changeless temperature of perpetual spring. 
Within these walls the flood of noontide splendour never 
dazzles the eye ; and amid these ever-burning lamps mid- 
night never produces utter darkness ; but the loveliest of 
twilights by day, and a ' dim religious light' by night, per- 
vade the spacious solitudes. The place seems holy through 
its very vastness and its beauty. Strength, grandeur, and 
solidity, suggestive of ' the fixed infinite/ float unsphered 
within these vaulted spaces. Yet who w r ould think the 
ceiling of the nave twice the height of that of Westminster 
Abbey, and the vault of the dome almost treble that stu- 
pendous altitude ? Who would think those infant cherubs 
at the base of the pilasters six feet high, or the pen in the 
hand of St. Luke above them six feet long, or the figure of 
the Evangelist itself sixteen feet in stature, or the piers that 
support that unrivalled structure eighty-four feet in 
diameter, or the gorgeous bronze baldichino over the great 
altar, ninety feet above the pavement ? It is the perfec- 
tion of the proportions that occasions the illusion ; and you 
must come hither again and again, and remain here long 
enough to study the several parts of the edifice in detail, 
and allow the eye to become familiar with the various objects 
of its survey, before you will have any adequate idea of the 



232 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

greatness of the Roman cathedral. The oftener you visit 
it, the more you will be impressed with its grandeur : and 
a residence of years within its walls, it seems to me, would 
only enhance the wonder of its magnitude and its magnifi- 
cence. It is the sanctuary of space and silence. An 
oppresive sense of vastitudeand majesty pervades the place. 
No throng can crowd these halls ; no sound of voice or 
organ can fill these arches. The Pope, who fills all Europe 
with his pompous retinue, fills not St. Peter's ; and the 
roar of his choired singers, with the sonorous chant of a 
host of priests, bishops, and cardinals, floats in soft echoes 
through its aisles and domes. 

Those vast pictures on the walls and piers — the Commu- 
nion of St. Jerome, by Domenichino ; the Burial of St. 
Petronilla, by Guercino ; the Transfiguration of the 
Eedeemer, by Raffaello — are as great in merit as in mag- 
nitude — the masterpieces of the world — copied not in oil- 
tints upon perishable canvas, but wrought with infinite 
labour in ever-during mosaic. Look where you will, you 
see precious marbles and fretted gold, and the sense is 
actually oppressed with the immense richness and variety of 
decoration — the incalculable treasure lavished by popes 
and princes, with unparalleled prodigality, through succes- 
sive centuries, upon this grand aesthetic embodiment of the 
Roman religion. And what an aspect of oriental magnifi- 
cence has the great central altar, with its lofty and 
elaborately wrought canopy, supported by its four huge 
twisted columns, the largest bronze structure in existence ; 
and the hundred brazen lamps which burn perpetually in 
front, lighting the way to the solemn crypt below ! There 
probably sleeps St. Paul — Peter also, according to the 
Church ; but there is no proof, and tradition is rather 
dubious. There probably lies the dust of Paul — the 
greatest hero that Rome herself ever saw — the dust of that 
heart which enshrined the Crucified, and embraced the 
universe — the dust of that mouth which discoursed so 
bravely at Athens, and spoke so sweetly to the elders of 
Ephesus —the dust of those feet which traversed the world, 
and were never weary — of those eyes which wept so often 
for his enemies — of those hands which proudly wore the 
martyr's chain — there, probably, he lies, and thence shall 



BASILICA VATICAXUS. 203 

come forth, with all them that sleep in Jesus, l to meet the 
Lord in the air !' 

But no one can say that he has seen St. Peter's till he 
has made the ascent of the dome. A clay was set apart 
for this especial purpose, and a lovelier never shone on 
beautiful Italy. A broad spiral flight of steps, one hundred 
and forty- four in number, led us to the lofty roof. Here 
the vast dimensions and fine proportions of the edifice began 
to dawn like a new revelation upon my soul. Here I per- 
ceived that the vaulted roof of the nave and aisles was but 
the pedestal, whence the real elevation of the building 
soared on high. Here I ascertained that the statues of 
Christ and the Apostles arranged along the parapet, which 
from the court below appeared to be not more than five 
feet high, were in reality fifteen or twenty. The grand 
cupola was magnified in the same proportion ; and the 
sixteen smaller ones, which seemed like satellites around it, 
were fit to have crowned as many fine churches. Two of 
them, indeed, are more than a hundred feet high, and worthy 
of cathedrals. I stood astonished at the number of domes 
and spires that rose around me — the galleries, the stair- 
cases, the shops of the workmen, the labourers passing to 
and fro — giving the whole the form and aspect of a town, 
rather than the roof of a church. But the grand dome 
itself is the acme of all architectural wonders ; the vast 
platform on which it reposes, as on a solid rock, the lofty 
colonnade by which it is surrounded and supported, the 
prcaigious swell and circumference of the convex structure, 
and the lantern which stands upon its summit like a temple 
on a mountain, constituting an object which every eye 
must admire, but no pen can adequately describe. 

The dome is a double vault, a dome within a dome, 
and the stairs by which it is ascended are between the 
interior and exterior walls. After climbing several flights 
we entered a door which opened upon the great circular 
gallery within. It was a dizzy height, and we shuddered 
to approach the balustrade and look clown upon the 
baldichino, with the altar and the shrine below. The 
people moving about the pavement looked like Lillipu- 
tians ; and the mosaic figures around us, which from 
beneath had seemed so small, assumed a gigantic mag- 



234 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

nitude. The diameter of the dome at this point is a 
hundred and forty feet, about the same as that of the 
Pantheon. Having- satisfied ourselves with the view, we 
resumed the ascent ; and by successive flights of steps, at 
length reached the very apex of the dome. The prospect 
from the balcony here is equal to that which we enjoyed 
from the Campanile of the Capitol. The whole area of 
Rome lay spread out like a map beneath us, with the sur- 
rounding sweep of the Campagna, through which the 
Tiber, now unquestionably golden, winding like a great 
serpent, might be traced from Monte Soracte to the sea ; 
the whole bounded on the east by the purple-tinted 
semicircle of the Apennines, and on the west by the blue 
line of the Mediterranean. Everything in the Eternal 
City seemed to be visible, but here the seven hills had 
sunk to a level with the intervening valleys, and churches 
and palaces had lost their grandeur and elevation, while 
St. Peter's and the adjoining Vatican, by themselves, 
assumed the magnitude of a town. Nothing could look 
funnier than the mannikins in the broad piazza below, the 
toy-carriages and horses passing through the streets, and 
the company of tiny soldiers performing their evolutions 
within the circling colonnade. 

At the top of the lantern we found a spacious room, 
with seats around the wall, where several persons were 
awaiting their opportunity to mount still higher. There 
was a party already in the ball, and others could not 
ascend till they came down. The place was uncomfortably 
warm, but here, as elsewhere, we must ' bide our time.' 
The ladder leading up into the ball is vertical, and the 
aperture at the top is only large enough to admit a man of 
ordinary dimensions. A fat monk, who essayed the ascent 
in vain, afforded our company much amusement ; and a 
fashionable lady, who immediately afterwards mounted the 
ladder with an air of triumph, found it equally imprac- 
ticable. We experienced no difficulty, however ; and 
Mrs. Cross performed the feat with comparative ease. The 
ball, which from the piazza below seems not much larger 
than the Pope's head, is spacious enough to contain 
sixteen persons. On the outside is a small iron ladder, 
conducting to the cross above ; but the ascent is seldom or 



BASILICA VATICANUS. 235 

never attempted, except by the man who lights the cross 
on the night of the annual illumination, nor even by him 
till he has received the sacrament of extreme unction ; 
though once upon a time, as Eustace records in his 
Classical Tour, some midshipmen of the frigate Medusa, 
who had served an apprenticeship at climbing, did achieve 
this exploit without any such efficacious preparative ; and 
their example was subsequently imitated by a party of 
spirited young Americans — 

' Heroes prodigal of breath, 
Atliirst for glory, and despising death.' 



( 236 ) 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 

Influence of Borromini upon the style of Sacred Architecture — 
Church of St. Clement — San Pietro in Vincoli — San Martino e 
San Sylvestro — Santa Cecilia in Trastevera — San Pietro in Mon- 
torio — Santa Maria in Trastevera — San Lorenzo — II Gesu— Ara 
Cceli— Santa Maria Maggiora— San Giovanni in Laterano — San 
Paolo Fuori la Mura — Sant' Onofrio — Santa Maria ad Martyres 
— San Stephano Kotondo. 

Pagan Pome had four hundred temples : Papal Rome has 
three hundred and thirty churches, many of them as old 
as the time of Constantine. These ancient edifices have 
been more or less altered in the successive restorations 
and repairs to which they have been subjected, yet much 
of the old material remains, and the original plans of the 
buildings are generally preserved. They are interesting, 
therefore, as specimens of the early Christian architec- 
ture, and frequently they contain rare treasures of art. 
With the exception of the transept, rendering them cruci- 
form, they are built after the model of the ancient 
Basilica ; with a lofty central nave, and two lateral 
aisles, separated from it by colonnades. 

The prevailing style of the modern ecclesiastical archi- 
tecture of Rome I do not admire. The fantastical inno- 
vations of Borromini appear to me opposed to all true 
taste and just proportion. This is the more remarkable in 
Rome, where so many admirable specimens of antiquity 
remain, as guides and models for the architect. It is 
strange that, with the portico of the Pantheon before him, 
he should have indulged in such whimsical absurdities — 
groups of pillars crowded into recesses, cornices broken 
and sharpened into angles, and pediments twisted into 
curves and flourishes — filling Pome with such extrava- 
gances and deformities as now everywhere meet the eye of 
the beholder. But Borromini was a bold genius, who 
avoided imitation, and aimed at originality, seeking even 



ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 237 

to excel Michael Angelo. The former object he certainly 
achieved : the latter also, in respect to everything 1 gro- 
tesque and ridiculous in his art. 

Yet there is much in the churches of Rome to be 
admired. He who delights in immense halls and endless 
colonnades ; pillars of solid granite, and altars and tombs 
of precious marbles; pavements that glow with all the 
tints of the rainbow, and roofs ablaze with glittering 
bronze and gold ; canvas that seems to live and breathe, 
and statues which appear ready to step down from their 
pedestals and grasp the hand of the visitor ; may find in 
the religious structures of this grand old city ample enter- 
tainment for weeks and months together. I confine 
myself to a few of the more ancient, whether within or 
without the walls. 

The oldest church in Home is that of San Clemente ; 
said to occupy the site of that bishop's house, and sup- 
posed to have been originally one of its apartments. 
Nothing is absurd in Rome but Protestant incredulity. 
That this edifice is very ancient is unquestionable, for it is 
mentioned as an old one by Jerome, and other writers of 
the fourth century ; but that it retains much of its 
primitive appearance is very doubtful, so often has it been 
re-edified and altered. It is not, strictly speaking, a 
basilica, though it appears to have been something after 
that form ; which, indeed, has been generally retained or 
imitated in the church architecture of Italy. 

The Church of San Pietro in Vincoli was built about the 
year a.d. 420. It is a noble hall, supported by forty 
pillars of marble, and adorned with some beautifully- 
sculptured tombs and several fine pictures. Here is 
Michael Angelo's Moses, one of the most remarkable 
statues in the world. This was the first great work of art 
I visited in Rome ; and though I afterwards went to see it 
again and again, I . was never weary of gazing upon its 
majestic proportions. But the most precious treasure in 
this church, of course, is the holy relic from which it 
receives its name — the chain with which Saint Peter was 
bound, still sacredly preserved in a box beneath the 
altar. 

Near this, built from the ruins of the Baths of Titus, 



238 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

and dating from the days of Constantine, is the Church of 
San Martino e San Sylvestro. It is supported by 
Corinthian columns of tiie finest marble, bearing a very 
beautiful entablature ; and its walls are adorned by the 
pencils of the two Poussins. Beneath the altar, which is 
of the neatest pattern and the finest proportions, is the 
descent into the ancient church — a large vaulted hall, 
once paved with mosaic, and well furnished with various 
artistic decorations — now nearly subterranean, and tinged 
with unwholesome vapours, from which the visitor is soon 
glad to escape. 

Of equal magnificence, though of inferior antiquity, is 
the Church of Santa Cecilia in Trastevera. It is thought 
to occupy the ground whereon stood the house of the 
virgin martyr ; and the bath is shown in a chapel where, 
they say, she was beheaded. On the tomb is a reclining 
statue, in a very natural position, and apparently covered 
with a delicate veil ; which, according to the inscription, 
exactly represents the attitude and drapery of the body, as 
it was found there more than a thousand years ago. It is 
exceedingly graceful, and wrought with such exquisite 
art that the saint seems to sleep in her snowy robe, await- 
ing the call of the morning. There are few works of art 
more beautiful than Raphael's painting of this maiden- 
martyr, as she stands, harp in hand, with eyes upturned to 
heaven — 

4 The mind, the music, breathing from her face.' j 

In a very conspicuous position on the side of the 
Janiculum, and commanding a view of the whole city, 
stands the church of San Pietro in Montorio. It is a 
very ancient building, adorned with fine sculpture and 
painting. In connection with it is a convent ; and in the 
court of its cloister stands a little Doric chapel, built by 
Bramante. It is circular in form, supported by pillars, 
and crowned with a dome, resembling somewhat the 
temples of Vesta. This little gem of an edifice is erected 
on the very spot — so says tradition, so say the faithful — 
where St. Peter was crucified ; and who can doubt that 
the aperture which the custode showed us in the floor is 
the identical place where the cross was planted ? 



EOMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 239 

Santa 31aria in Trastevera, formerly the Basilica Ca- 
lixta, is said to have been built near the beginning of the 
third century, and rebuilt near the middle of the fourth. 
Its antiquity, however, does not constitute its only interest. 
Its bold portico and lofty nave are supported by ancient 
pillars of red and black granite, all of different orders and 
sizes ; its entablature is composed of shattered remains of 
various antique cornices ; and the whole fabric, indeed, 
seems to be a most extraordinary assemblage of hetero- 
geneous fragments. There is in it, however, a certain 
majesty, which measurably redeems its deformities ; and 
its chapels are splendidly adorned by the pencil of Do- 
menichino. 

In the ancient Campus Veranus, on the road to Tivoli, 
about a mile beyond the gate, stands the Basilica of San 
Lorenzo, erected by Constantine the Great. Twenty-four 
granite pillars separate its aisles from its nave. It has 
two ambones, richly carved, and inlaid with precious 
marbles. Its chancel is curiously paved with mosaic, and 
adorned with twenty-four superb Corinthian columns, in 
two ranges, one above the other ; the lower range descend- 
ing, through a large open space, far below the present 
pavement, to the level of the original floor. Beneath the 
altar is the tomb, inlaid and encrusted with the most costly 
marbles, where the saint's remains are said to repose, with 
those also of the martyr Stephen. 

II Gesu is interesting, less for its antiquity than for its 
popularity. Antiquity, indeed, it can scarcely claim, as it 
was built in the sixteenth century. This church and its 
convent are the head-quarters of the Jesuits. It is very 
large and magnificent, but somewhat tawdry in its decora- 
tions. The sumptuous chapel of St. Ignatius Loyola con- 
tains the richest altar in the world. Over it hangs a solid 
globe of lapis-lazuli, which is deemed the largest mass of 
that precious substance in the possession of man. The 
gilt bronze tomb of the saint beneath it contrasts singularly 
with his life of suffering and self-denial. He reposes in a 
shroud adorned with precious stones, and his tall statue of 
massy silver is profusely ornamented with gems. By the 
side of the high altar is the tomb of Cardinal Bellarmino — 
a celebrated controversialist of the Roman Catholic Church 



240 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

— some of whose tenets, being a little too liberal to suit the 
taste of the Vatican, have hitherto prevented his canoni- 
zation. Thousands of people flock hither for the music 
and the preaching every Sabbath morning. The music is 
the finest in Rome ; and the preaching, for elocution and 
effect, surpasses any theatrical performance in Italy. The 
establishment is said to be immensely wealthy, and I can 
well believe it, for the trade in indulgences carried on 
here is a very lucrative business, and the walls of the 
church are covered with certificates of the release of souls 
from purgatory, every one of which brought a good sum 
into the coffers of the brotherhood, 

The Ara Cceli, which dates from the fifth or sixth 
century, occupies the site of the Temple of Jupiter Ca- 
pitolinus, and is built partly from its ruins. Its twenty- 
two columns of Egyptian granite, however, could not 
have belonged to that renowned fabric, whose pillars, 
according to Plutarch, were all of Pentelic marble. They 
differ in style and workmanship, and were probably trans- 
ferred hither from different structures. One of them bears 
an antique inscription, indicating that it came from the 
bedchamber of the Caesars upon the Palatine. The floor 
and the two ambones are ornamented with mosaics of 
curious patterns. The hundred and twenty-four marble 
steps by which it is approached once formed part of the 
Temple of Quirinus. The great attraction here is 11 
Santissimo Bambino — an image of the infant Saviour, 
covered with gems of sufficient value to purchase an 
empire. It was made by a Franciscan pilgrim from a 
tree which grew in the garden of Olivet, and coloured 
and varnished by Saint Luke, while the artist slept. Of 
course it has marvellous virtues and has healed myriads of 
sick. Frequently it is carried to the chambers of the 
dying ; and its fees for professional visits amount to as 
much as the salaries of all the physicians of Rome. Once, 
when it went to see a patient, it was detained in his 
chamber, and another Bambino was sent back in its stead ; 
but during the next night, indignant at such detention, it 
arose and walked home to its temple. Is it wonderful 
that this wooden doll should be worshipped by the pros- 
trate thousands of Rome, when it is exhibited for their 



ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 241 

veneration in the street ? It was in the Ara Cceli that 
Gibbon, as he sat musing amid the ruins of the Capitol, 
while the barefooted monks chanted vespers, first con- 
ceived the idea of writing the ' Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire.' 

One of the noblest of these churches is the Santa Maria 
Maggiore. It was built about the middle of the fourth 
century, and perhaps was the first ever named after the 
blessed virgin. It stands isolated on the Esquiline, where 
two great streets terminate in two broad squares ; and 
with its two domes, two fronts, and lofty campanile, 
presents a very imposing aspect. I do not admire the 
architecture of its exterior ; but its spacious and richly- 
decorated interior is exceedingly majestic and beautiful. 
It is the best specimen of the ancient basilica, more than 
four hundred feet long, and of proportionate width. The 
aisles are separated from the nave by two Ionic colonnades, 
numbering more than forty pillars, thirty-two of which 
are of white marble. The altar is a large slab of marble, 
covering a large porphyry sarcophagus, in which formerly 
slumbered the remains of Bishop Liberius, the founder of 
this gorgeous fabric ; and is overshadowed by a magnifi- 
cent baldichino of bronze, supported by four lofty Corinth- 
ian pillars. Its variegated floor, and richly - gilded 
ceiling, exceed all that I had ever imagined of church 
ornamentation. Its two great side-chapels, dedicated to 
Sixties Quintus and the Borghese family, are adorned with 
jasper and lapis-lazuli, and blaze with a profusion of gems 
and precious metals. But notwithstanding this prodigality 
of ornament, the general effect is an impression of calm 
grandeur, which pleases without astonishing ; and often as 
I was there, I always enjoyed, in the contemplation of its 
architecture, a feeling of tranquil delight. 

Like this basilica, that of San Giovanni in Laterano has 
tw r o fronts, is very large and imposing, and occupies a con- 
spicuous position. But the contortions of its interior archi- 
tecture — its broken friezes and fantastic pediments — its 
spirals, semicircles, and triangles without number —produce 
a very different impression from that of the Santa Maria 
Maggiore. Its decorations are extremely rich, and scattered 
with the utmost profusion, but unfortunately with little 



242 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

taste ; and the Gothic ornament that surrounds the altar, it 
appears to me, is not in harmony with the rest of the edifice. 
For these deformities probably Borromini is responsible. 
The church was originally supported by more than three 
hundred antique pillars ; but this bold innovator, in repair- 
ing it, walled up many of them in the buttresses, which he 
disfigured with groups of tasteless pilasters. The canopy 
over the altar in the chapel of the Santissimo Sacramento 
is sustained by four fluted columns of bronze, extremely 
beautiful, which are said to have been brought from the 
Temple of Jerusalem, but are believed by some to have 
belonged to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. The Cor- 
sini Chapel contains the tomb of Clement XII., whose 
remains repose in a large porphyry sarcophagus, brought 
from the portico of the Pantheon, and once occupied by 
the ashes of Agrippa. In the baptistry is a large basin, 
lined with marble, from which tradition affirms Constantine 
to have been baptized, and from which are now baptized 
all the Jewish converts to the papal faith in Rome. In a 
neighbouring building is the Scala Santa, or Holy Stair- 
case, brought hither from Jerusalem ; the identical steps — 
we must not doubt it— on which our blessed Lord ascended 
to the judgment-hall of Pilate. Pilgrims are constantly 
climbing them on their knees, as Caesar did the steps to 
the Temple of Quirinus. A printed advertisement at the 
bottom promises plenary and perpetual indulgence to those 
who perform this act of piety, and declares this indulgence 
to be available also on behalf of their friends in purgatory. 
At the top, in a dark niche, behind an iron railing, with a 
light always burning before it, is a portrait of our Lord, 
painted by St. Luke, under the direction of an angel ; but 
the artist and his master, it is thought, must have been 
rather indifferent painters. 

The magnificent cathedral of San Paolo fuori la Mura, 
on the way to Ostia, is one of the grandest Christian temples 
in the world ; and impressed me more than any other build- 
ing in Rome or its environs, except St. Peter's itself. In 
1823 it was burned down, and has since been rebuilt, but 
is not yet fini-hed. The original edifice was begun by 
Constantine, and completed by Theodosius and Honorius. 
Its roof was of wood, but the beams were lined with gold. 






ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 243 

Its columns, amounting to a hundred and thirty-eight, were 
deemed the finest collection in the world. It was repaired 
successively by Leo III. and Sixtus Quintus. The latter 
built a portico, or covered gallery, leading to it, from the 
gate of the city, more than a mile in length, supported by 
marble pillars, and roofed with gilded copper. This magni- 
ficent structure, however, was destroyed long ago, and has 
left no trace of its existence. We rode out to the basilica, 
over an un paved road, beneath a broiling sun, and were 
well-nigh suffocated with dust. The glory of the building 
is not in its external architecture ; though the lofty por- 
tico, on the northern side, with its twelve marble columns, 
is a beautiful erection ; and its campanile, which is not 
yet completed, is likely to be a very graceful structure. 
It has a nave and four aisles, divided by four rows of 
granite columns, amounting in all to eighty-two, every 
one a single piece, and crowned -with a Corinthian capital 
of white marble. The frieze above is ornamented with 
mosaic portraits of the popes and illustrious fathers of the 
Church, but the series is not yet complete. Over the high 
altar is a magnificent canopy, supported by four columns 
of white alabaster from Egypt ; and beneath it lie parts, 
it is said, of the bodies of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. 
The sanctuary, as it is called, is paved with fine marble, 
and adorned with noble columns and rich mosaics. The 
length of the building is four hundred feet, and its width 
at the transept two hundred and fifty. The adjoining 
cloister of the Benedictines, around an open square, is as 
fantastic in its architecture as can well be imagined ; and 
its columns, coupled, twisted, fluted, inverted, covered 
with mosaics, and of all possible forms, Borromini himself 
could not have beaten. 

The classical reader would deem it unpardonable in me 
not to mention in this sketch the mausoleum of the modern 
Virgil. Torquato Tasso sleeps in the Church of Sant 1 Ono- 
frio, just under the brow r of the Janiculum — midway 
between his birthplace at Sorrento and his. dungeon at Fer- 
rara. On the left, as you enter the church, is a marble slab, 
with a brief and simple inscription, marking the place where 
the remains of the poet rested for a long time. They were 
afterwards removed to the chapel close by, and a monument 



244 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of white marble erected over them, which is one of the 
most beautiful things in Rome. In the centre is a full- 
length figure of the poet, with an upturned face of almost 
angelic loveliness, holding a manuscript in one hand, and 
a gilded pen in the other. Two heavenly beings are 
hovering over him, in the act of placing a wreath upon his 
head. Beneath is the funeral procession in basso-relievo ; 
the figures being all actual likenesses of the chief person- 
ages who officiated on the occasion, or followed in the 
train. This exquisite memorial is but recently finished ; 
and Pio Nono himself headed the subscription to the work 
with a liberal sum. From the church, we passed through 
the cloisters, into the garden ; and sat for an hour under 
Tasso's Oak ; and mused on the unhappy fate of the poet ; 
and looked down upon the yellow Tiber, rolling in a 
thousand whirlpools at our feet ; and gazed upon the 
Campus Martius, crowded with the structures of the 
modern city ; and the monumental ruins which cover 
the seven hills beyond, mocking the ancient boast of 
Rome's eternity. We then returned to the convent, and 
entered the room where the poet died, and saw his chair, 
his writing-desk, the pens which he used, some of his manu- 
scripts, several articles of his apparel, a cast in wax taken 
from the dead man's face, and the bay with which the 
fratti decorated his bier and his sepulchre when they re- 
moved his remains — sacredly preserved, but all withered 
and crisped — a sad memorial of genius, and a melancholy 
emblem of fame ! These are the words of Tasso, in a 
letter to a friend, a few days before his dissolution : 6 I 
feel that the end of my life is near ; being able to find no 
remedy for this wearisome indisposition, which is superadded 
to my customary infirmities, and by which, as by a rapid 
torrent, I see myself swept away, without a hand to save. 
It is no longer time to speak of my unyielding destiny, 
not to say the ingratitude of the world, which has longed 
even for the victory of driving me a beggar to my grave ; 
while I thought that the glory which, in spite of those who 
w r ill it not, this age shall receive from my writings, was 
not to leave me thus without reward. I have come to this 
monastery of St. Onofrio, not only because the air is com- 
mended by physicians as more salubrious than in any other 



ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 24f> 

part of Rome, but that I may, as it were, commence, in 
this high place, and in the conversation of these devout 
fathers, my conversation in heaven. Pray God for me : 
and be assured that as I have loved and honoured you in 
this present life, so in that other and more real life 
will 1 do for you all that belongs to charity unfeigned 
and true. And to the Divine mercy I commend both you 
and myself.' 

Nor must I omit the grand Rotondo ; consecrated by 
Agrippa to Jupiter Ultor and all the gods ; and subse- 
quently, by Boniface the Fourth, to the Virgin Mary and 
all the martyrs. The form of the Pantheon is that of a 
vast circular hall, crowned with a lofty dome : rather, it is 
a great dome set upon the ground. It is paved and lined 
with precious marbles ; and its walls are adorned with 
sixteen columns, and as many pilasters, of giallo antico 
and pavanazzetto. Between the pillars are eight niches, 
and between these niches eight altars, each adorned with 
two smaller pillars of the same kind. The niches were 
originally occupied by statues of the superior divinities, 
and the intermediate altars were consecrated to the inferior 
powers. Those statues, according to the rank of the gods 
they represented, were of gold, silver, bronze, or marble. 
The proportions of this temple are most admirable, its 
diameter and its altitude being equal — about a hundred 
and fifty feet- — and its dome an exact hemisphere. It has 
no windows, but there is a circular opening in the apex of 
the dome, twenty-eight feet in diameter, through which 
the light and the rain alike have free access to the interior. 
The doors are of massive bronze, probably the identical 
doors that were placed there by Agrippa. In front is a 
fine portico, a hundred and ten feet long, and forty-four 
feet deep ; consisting of a double row of Corinthian 
columns, sixteen in number. Each shaft is a single piece 
of oriental granite, forty-four feet in height ; and all 
the bases and capitals are of white marble. It looks 
towards the grand Mausoleum of Augustus on the Campus 
Martius, and before it of old extended a long area paved 
with travertine. This is the most perfect specimen of 
Roman architecture that time and the popes have spared. 
' They have removed.' says Dupaty, ' all that made it rich, 



246 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

bur left all that made it great.' The fine marble which 
encrusted the exterior long since disappeared, leaving 
nothing but the naked brick; the silver which lined the 
dome was stripped off and carried away by the barbarians ; 
and the gilt bronze which covered the roof was taken to 
make the cannon for the castle of St. Angelo, and the huge 
twisted columns which sustain the baldichino over the high 
altar of St. Peter's. We may form some proximate idea of 
the original magnificence of the building, when we learn 
that more than four hundred and fifty thousand pounds 
weight of metal were removed at one time. The Pantheon 
has served as a model for St. Sophia's at Constantinople, 
and the majestic cupola of the Basilica Vaticanus. The 
portico seems to have been built by Agrippa, about thirty 
years before Christ : the Rotondo itself may be a century 
or two older. The eyes of St. Paul looked upon it ; and 
perhaps here, as on Mars Hill, he rebuked the superstition 
of the people. It is at least by far the most ancient 
building in Some, remaining in so good a state of preser- 
vation. Its escape from the common fate of other antique 
edifices is attributable mainly to its conversion into a 
church in the beginning of the seventh century. Two 
hundred years later it was repaired, and dedicated to 
the Virgin, under the name of Santa Maria ad Mar- 
tyres, when twenty-eight waggon -loads of holy bones were 
brought into it from the cemeteries and catacombs, which 
was the origin of the Feast of All Saints. And here 
reposes Raffaello ! 

I close these ecclesiological sketches, which might be 
indefinitely extended, with a brief notice of the Church of 
San Stephano Rotondo, on the Coelian Hill. This is one 
of the oldest religious edifices in Rome, and by many is 
supposed to have been originally a pagan temple, though 
there is probably no sufficient ground for this opinion, nor 
is it sustained by the character of the architecture. The 
building is named from its circular shape, and contains 
two rows of concentric columns, thirty-six in the outer, 
and twenty in the inner circle. But the chief attraction 
of the place is the series of frescoes upon the walls, all 
round the building, exhibiting the sufferings of the mar- 
tyrs ; albeit, less remarkable for any artistic merit they 



ROMAN ECCLESIOLOGY. 247 

possess, than for the revolting horrors they display. You 
see the witnesses of Jesus burned, impaled, beheaded, 
crucified, flayed alive, torn to pieces transpierced with 
arrows, broiled on gridirons boiled in caldrons of oil, fed 
with ladles of melted metal, and enduring almost every 
imaginable kind of cruelty and indignity. Doubtless 
many of the stories thus represented are untrue, and others 
are exasperated ; it is not very likely, for instance, that 
St. Denis walked with his head in his hands, after it was 
struck from his shoulders ; but enough that is well authen- 
ticated remains, to show the malice of Satan, and the 
triumphant power of the Christian faith : and it may not 
be unprofitable to contemplate these pictorial representa- 
tions of both. ' Though pleasure is not a. sin.' says the 
late Doctor Arnold, k yet surely the contemplation of 
surrerino- for Christ's sake is a thins: most needful for us in 
our days, from whom in our daily life suffering seems 
so far removed ; and as God's grace enabled rich and 
delicate persons, women, and even children, to endure 
all the extremities of pain and reproach in times past, 
so there is the same grace now ; and if we do not close 
ourselves agaii^t it, it might in us be equally glorified in a 
time of trial.' He goes on to state his conviction, • from 
the teaching both of men's wisdom and of God's,' that 
such times of trial are approaching. ; And therefore,' 
he adds, 'pictures of martyrdom are, I think, very whole- 
some ; not to be sneered at, nor yet to be looked upon as a 
mere excitement : but as a sober reminder to us of what 
Satan can do to hurt, and what Christ's grace can enable 
the weakest of his people to bear. Neither should we 
forget those who by their sufferings were more than con- 
querors, not for themselves only, but for us, in securing to 
us the safe and triumphant existence of Christ's blessed 
faith ; in securing to us the possibility — nay, the actual 
enjoyment, had it not been for the antichrist of the priest- 
hood — of Christ's holy and glorious ecclesia — the congre- 
gation and commonwealth of Christ's people.' How vastly 
superior are these truly Christian sentiments to the common 
inculcations of the Roman ecclesiastics concerning such 
works of art, and the idolatrous veneration paid them by 
the Roman people ! 



( 248 ) 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

PALACES AND VILLAS. 

Roman Palaces — Palazzo Doria — Palazzo Rnspoli — Palazzo Corsini 
— Palazzo Barbarini — Palazzo Borghese — Palazzo Farnese — 
Palazzo Colonna — Palazzo Spada— Palazzo Pontificio — Palazzo 
Yaticano — Suburban Villas — Villa Farnese— Villa Negroni — 
Villa Pamfilicloria — Villa Madama — Villa Borghese — Similarity 
of these Villas. 

Besides the palaces of the pope and the senator, there 
are twenty-four private palaces in Rome, all of vast dimen- 
sions and imposing architecture. To many of them, in the 
grandeur of their external appearance, our finest hotels and 
state-capitols bear no comparison ; but within, all seems 
sacrificed to display, and little or nothing is reserved for 
domestic convenience or personal comfort. The stranger, 
as he walks clown the Corso and across some of the 
Piazzas, cannot help admiring these grand and gorgeous 
structures ; but let him enter the arched gateway, ascend 
the broad marble staircase, and follow his guide through 
the long suite of apartments, and he will be still more 
astonished at the unfurnished and uncomfortable condition 
of the interior. The chief part of the building is occupied 
with statues and paintings ; while the noble proprietor, 
with his wife and children, and a couple of half-starved 
domestics, are living in the most secluded and economical 
manner in some remote corner of the building, admitting 
visitors at two pauls a head to their saloons and galleries 
of art, and thus reaping a scanty revenue from the display 
of their ill-sustained magnificence. They give no social 
entertainments, receive no company, and are seldom seen, 
except when they ride out in the afternoon, with liveried 
driver and footman, on the Pincio, or through the grounds 
of the Villa Borghese. Often, no doubt, they actually 
suffer for the necessaries of life, in order to keep up the 
prestige of their ancient grandeur. The principal apart- 



PALACES AND VILLAS. 249 

merits of many of these spacious edifices are rented to 
sojourning forestieri ; and some of them are even used as 
hotels, cafes, bazaars, studios, mechanic shops, while the 
family occupy some single chamber in one of the upper 
stories. The case, of course, is different with the cardinals, 
and such of the nobility as have sufficient income to main- 
tain them in better state. 

The Palazzo Doria in the Corso presents three vast 
fronts, with a spacious court within, surrounded by a beauti- 
ful portico. The staircase, supported by eight pillars of 
Oriental granite, conducts to a magnificent gallery, that 
occupies the four sides of the court, and is crowded with 
the finest works of art. 

The Palazzo Ruspoli is remarkable for its staircase, 
which is deemed one of the noblest in Rome. It consists 
of four flights of steps, each thirty in number ; and every 
step is one solid piece of marble, nearly ten feet long and 
two feet broad. It is adorned with antique statues, and 
leads to two noble galleries, the walls of which ore covered 
with pictures. The lower story is now the Caffe Nuovo. 

The Palazzo Corsini is a building of vast magnitude, 
and one of the handsomest in Rome. It has a double stair- 
case of most imposing architecture, conducting to an ex- 
tensive gallery of painting and sculpture, and a library of 
four thousand volumes. It is situated in the Lungara of 
the Trastevera, and has a pretty villa connected with it, 
whose classic grounds, reaching to the very crest of the 
Janiculum, command a pleasant prospect of the city. 

The Palazzo Barharini is not externally attractive ; 
but it contains some of the finest works of art, among 
which are RarTael's Fornarina, and Guido's immortal 
portrait of Beatrice Cenci, ' the picture that enchants the 
world. 5 The latter is certainly one of the loveliest things 
ever executed by human hand. No artist may sit before it, 
even with a cedar pencil ; yet copies of it are seen in all 
the shops and studios of Rome, and circulated throughout 
the world. It is said that the finest ever taken is by our 
countryman, Sully, and this is entirely from memory. 

The Palazzo Borghese is a superb edifice, belonging to 
an illustrious family, long celebrated for their taste and 
their magnificence. It is remarkable for its vast dimen- 



250 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

sions : for the noble portico, sustained by ninety-six granite 
columns, which surrounds its court ; and still more for a 
certain well-proportioned magnificence, pervading every 
part, and giving the whole mansion, from basement to 
attic, an aspect of neatness, order, and opulence. The 
gallery, containing eight hundred and fifty-six paintings, is 
arranged in twelve large rooms, each of which has a 
separate catalogue in French and Italian for the use of 
visitors. 

The Palazzo Farnese occupies one side of a handsome 
square, adorned with two fountains. It was planned by 
Michael Angelo, and its apartments were painted by Dome- 
nichino and Annibale Caracci. The latter toiled eight 
years on these frescoes, and was rewarded with the princely 
sum of five hundred crowns, equal to six hundred dollars ! 
The palace is of immense size and great elevation ; but it 
was ail built from the plundered fragments of the Flavian 
Amphitheatre, The majestic vestibule is supported by 
twelve massive pillars of Egyptian granite. Within, three 
ranges of arcades rise one above another round a spacious 
court, and several entrances open into suites of magnificent 
apartments, with ceilings beautifully carved. In the portico 
stands the sarcophagus of white marble taken from the tomb 
o)f Cecilia Metella. The roof and cornice were somewhat 
damaged in 1849 by the French batteries on the Jani- 
culum ; and we saw several marks left by those formidable 
missileso 

The Palazzo Colonna has an indifferent exterior; but 
its great extent, its ample court, and its teeming galleries, 
cannot fail to excite the admiration of the visitor. Its 
staircase, lined with statues ; its apartments, decorated with 
pictures ; its library, filled with a choice collection of old 
books and manuscripts ; its great hall, forty feet in breadth, 
and more than two hundred and twenty in length, sup- 
ported by Corinthian columns of giallo antico, and 
adorned on the sides and vaulted ceiling with painting and 
gilding intermingled ; and its terraced gardens, extending 
along the western slope of the Quirinal, with their flowery 
walks, and tropical fruits, and living walls of box, and 
deep arcades of ilex, and colossal fragments of the Temple 
of the Sun, present a scene of splendour and beauty seldom 



PALACES AND VILLAS. 251 

equalled even in Italy. The place derives an additional 
interest from its history, as the residence of Julius the 
Second, of Cardinal Borromeo, and the noble Colonna. 
The last named was a hero worthy of antiquity. "When 
overtaken by his pursuers, and asked who he was, he 
replied, 4 1 am Stephen Colonna, a citizen of Rome ;' and 
when, in the last extremity of battle, one cried out to him, 
' Where is now your fortress, Colonna?' he laid his hand 
upon his heart, and proudly answered, ' Here!' 

The Palazzo Spada, though le^s inviting externally 
than many of those already described, will be one of the 
first to attract the attention of the classical tourist, because 
it contains the statue of Pompey, at the base of which 
6 great Caesar fell.' This statue was originally placed by 
Pompey himself in the senate-house which he had erected; 
and when that edifice was shut up, it was raised by order 
of Augustus upon the summit of a marble arch opposite 
the entrance of Pompey's Theatre. During the convul- 
sions of the Gothic wars it was thrown down, and for ages 
lav buried in ruins. About the beginningr of the seventeenth 
century it was discovered in a partition wall between two 
houses ; the proprietors of which, after some altercation, 
valuing it only for the marble, agreed to saw it asunder, 
and divide it between them. Fortunately, the Cardinal di 
Spada heard of it. and by a timely purchase rescued from 
destruction one of the most interesting relics of Roman 
antiquity. It is eleven feet high, and of Parian marble. 
There is a broad crimson stain upon one of the legs, a 
little above the ancle, said to be the blood of Csesar, which 
the sapient authoress of ' Reflected Fragments ' declares 
must not be questioned ; and truth to say, though one 
might think two thousand years sufficient for the efface- 
ment of any such mark, it would require a good degree of 
art to produce a better imitation. During the French 
occupation of the city sixty years ago, it was carried to 
the Coliseum, and placed upon the stage of a temporary 
theatre erected for the entertainment of the soldiery, when 
its right arm was sawed off to aid the facility of transporta- 
tion. There is also here a sitting- statue of Aristotle, and 
a series of remarkable bas-reliefs from the Chiesa della 
&an£ Agnesia. In 1849 several shot from the French 



252 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

batteries struck the wall of the palace, some of which 
broke through the massive structure, but, fortunately, 
injured none of these valuable antiques. 

The Palazzo Pontificio, on the Quirinal, the ordinary 
summer residence of the pope, ought of course to be more 
splendid than any of those I have mentioned, and Murray 
pronounces it ' the most habitable and princely palace in 
Rome.' Its exterior presents two long fronts, of rather 
simple and unostentatious architecture. The court within 
is about three hundred and fifty feet by four hundred, sur- 
rounded by a lofty portico, with a broad staircase conduct- 
ing to the papal apartments, We first entered a grand 
hall, two hundred feet long, and totally without furniture, 
but having 1 a very gorgeous ceiling. Beyond this we came 
to the private apartments of the pope — his audience- 
chamber, dining-saloon, bedroom, and study, constructed 
and furnished on a grand scale, exceedingly neat, perhaps 
I should say splendid, but not gaudy. On the identical 
brass bedstead which we saw in the dormitory, expired 
Pius the Seventh. Next we came to an elegant suite of 
apartments which that pontiff fitted up for the Emperor of 
Austria ; and others decorated by the present pope, with 
paintings and tapestry of the utmost beauty. This palace has 
been for many years the seat of the conclave for the election 
of the Sovereign Pontiff, whose name is announced from the 
balcony over the main entrance to the people in the piazza 
below. This piazza is called Monte Cavallo, from the two 
colossal statues of horses held by young men, which stand 
in its centre. These are Grecian productions, perhaps the 
works of Praxiteles and Phidias ; and were transported to 
Rome by Constantine from Alexandria, and placed in his 
Baths, whence Sixtus Quintus transferred them to their 
present position. The gardens adjoining the palace in the 
rear are spacious, well shaded with evergreens, refreshed 
by several fine fountains, and adorned with urns, statues, 
and various antique ornaments ; but the parallel ogramic 
arrangement of walks and parterres is intolerably French, 
and the organ, played by water at a paul per tune for 
visitors discourses most hideous discords. Pio JSTono has 
not summered here since his trip to Gaeta, preferring a 
greater proximity to the fortress of Sant' Angelo ! 



PALACES AND VILLAS. 253 

The Palazzo Vaticano may well close this list of Roman 
palaces. Its exterior architecture is neither imposing nor 
beautiful. It is not even uniform and symmetrical ; but 
looks like a cluster of buildings huddled together without 
much regard to appearance or propriety. This is easily 
accounted for by the fact that its several parts were erected 
by different architects, at different periods, and for different 
purposes. Begun early in the sixth century, the work has 
been continued under successive pontiffs, with frequent 
alterations and enlargements, reparations and improve- 
ments, down to the present time. All the great architects 
that Italy has produced since its commencement have been 
employed on one part or another of the edifice ; and Bra- 
mante, Raffaello, Fontana, Maderno, and Bernini, succes- 
sively displayed their respective talents in its embellish- 
ment. It is of immense extent, covering a space twelve 
hundred feet in length and a thousand in breadth. Its 
elevation is proportionate, and the number of apartments 
it contains is incredible. Its halls, saloons, galleries, and 
porticoes are on a grand scale, and give an idea of mag- 
nificence truly Roman. The walls are neither wainscoted, 
nor hung with tapestry ; but animated by the genius of the 
sublimest of modern artists. It is entered at the north 
side of the Grand Basilica of Saint Peter, by four succes- 
sive flights of marble steps, called the Scala JRegia, adorned 
with a double row of marble pillars — probably the most 
superb staircase in the world. Through its galleries of 
painting and statuary, its hall of inscriptions, its museum 
of antiquities, and its unrivalled library, I wandered again 
and again for many hours together ; but to enumerate their 
contents were to write a volume, and to speak critically of 
a hundredth part of what I saw were to furnish matter for 
a library. 

I must mention a few of Rome's suburban villas, in- 
teresting, so many of them, for their fine situations, beauti- 
ful gardens, extensive prospects, elegant casini, and 
numerous works of art. 

The Villa Farnese, seated on the crest of the Palatine, 
covers, with its gardens, the vast substructions and scattered 
fragments of the imperial palace ; and commands a full 



254 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

view of the Forum, the Capitol, the Coliseum, and most of 
the ancient city. 

1 Hence the seven hills, and hence is seen, 
What'er great Koine can boast, the world's triumphant queen.' 

The Villa Negroni, once the favourite retreat of Sixtus 
Quintus, encloses an immense area on the Esquiline and 
the Viminal, covered with groves of evergreens, containing 
two spacious and handsome buildings, and the remains of 
the celebrated rampart raised by Tarquinius Priscus. Its 
most valuable marbles, however, have been removed, and 
part of its grounds converted into vegetable gardens. 

The Villa Pamfilidoria is supposed to occupy the same 
ground as the gardens of the Emperor Galba. It is re- 
markable for its extent, magnificence, and valuable antiqui- 
ties. It was on this elevated spot that Porsenna pitched 
his camp more than two thousand years ago ; and Marshal 
Oudinot planted his batteries here in 1849. The grounds 
are laid out with great regularity, after the French manner ; 
but the luxuriance of nature is constantly counterworking 
the formal art of man ; and the profusion of foliage and 
water renders it a delightful resort in the bright mornings 
of May. 

* Here many a cool retreat is found, 
Far raised o'er all the heights around.' 

Nowhere did I see a finer cluster of stone-pines ; and oh, 
how sweetly sang the nightingales among the cedars ! 

The Villa Madama, on the side of Monte Mario, is now 
interesting chiefly for its historical associations. In its 
gardens is a rural theatre, formed by the natural windings 
of a little dell, and delightfully shaded with trees and shrub- 
bery. In the golden days of the Medici, this sylvan scene 
was crowded by the polished Romans, who assembled to 
listen to the compositions of rival poets, and decide the 
priority. of contesting orators. After these literary exhibi- 
tions, the spectators were regaled in lofty halls, planned by 
Raffaello, and painted by Giulio Romano, with all the 
delicacies of the orchard and the garden, amid strains of the 
sweetest music. But those days are no more, t he Medician 






PALACES AND VILLAS. 255 

line is extinct, and the villa is hastening to decay. The 
view from the hill above it is charming : the Tiber wind- 
ing through its green meadows, spanned by the memorable 
Pons Milvius, with its arched tower ; the plain consecrated 
by the victory of Constantine ; the Campus Martius, 
covered with the buildings of the modern city ; while the 
seven hills beyond, and the Cainpagna stretching away to 
the mountains, 

' Make great display of Koine's immortal ruins.' 

The Villa Borghese, four miles in circumference, covers 
the brow of a hill behind the Pincio. Its noble vistas, 
numerous fountains, ornamental buildings, and interesting 
collection of antiquities, entitle it to be regarded as the 
first of Poman villas, and worthy of comparison with the 
luxurious retreats of Sallust and Lucullus. Portions of 
the grounds are laid out in parallelograms, whose walks 
are adorned with temples, shaded with laurels, and refreshed 
with sparkling cascades ; but here and there a winding 
path allures the visitor into a wilderness of plants and 
flowers, abandoned to their native luxuriance, and watered 
by streamlets murmuring through their own artless 
channels. The interior of its spacious casino is lined with 
the richest marbles, supported by the noblest pillars, and 
filled with the finest productions of the pencil and the 
chisel. Here is the famous reclining statue of Pauline 
Buonaparte by Canova, a work of wondrous beauty. Such, 
indeed, is the splendour of these apartments, and the 
preciousness of their contents, that no sovereign in Europe 
can boast a gayer residence, or a richer gallery. The 
gates of this paradise are always open to the public ; and 
whenever the weather is good, especially on Sunday, 
multitudes of people of all descriptions, from the red- 
shanked cardinal down to the rag-screen contacline, are to 
be seen moving in every direction among the trees, or 
sitting in picturesque groups around the fountains. Fre- 
quently, through these delightful groves, fragrant with 
blossoms and musical with singing birds, I ranged for 
hours together, and never wearied of their varied beauty. 

The Villa Ludovisi, famous for the Aurora of Guercino 
on the ceiling of its casino ; and the Villa Ahani, with 



250 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

its two huge columns of alabaster, and its numerous pillars 
of granite, porphyry, serpentine, verd antique, and other 
precious marbles ; with all the rest, I pass by, lest I 
should weary the reader with the similarity of detail. In 
describing a few of these charming seats, one virtually 
describes them all. They may differ in extent and mag- 
nitude, but they are nearly the same in their principal 
features, their natural graces, and their artificial decora- 
tions. All of them enclose some of the same ancient 
ruins, contain some of the same interesting antiques, and 
present some of the same delightful views of the Historic 
City- 

4 The field of freedom, faction, fame, and blood !' 






C 257 ) 



CHAPTER XXV. 

ANTEMNE AND FIDENE. 

Solitary Eamble on the Campagna — Interesting View — Fierce Dogs 
— A Bum — Walk to Antemne— Charcoal Sketch — A Soldier 
Artist — Site of the City— Great Battle Ground — Ponte Salaro — 
— Scene of Nero's Suicide — Necropolis and Citadel of Fidene — 
Historical Sketch, 

There is nothing I enjoy more than a solitary ramble in 
the country. Even at home, I love to wander at leisure 
through ' the grand old woods/ or sit down in the shade by 
some rippling brook, and give myself up to reverie. But 
in Italy, where every hill has borne a city, and every 
stream reddened with battle-blood, and every foot of soil 
entombed its hero — where every rock is a history, every 
ruin an epic poem, and every ivy-mantled tower a sermon 
for the heart — there is an indescribable pleasure in such an 
excursion, and the soul, communing with the past, learns 
something of her own littleness, sees the vanity of man 
and all his works, and looks away from the perishable to 
the eternal. 

One charming morning, with Dennis's ' Cities and Ceme- 
teries of Etruria ' under my arm, I sauntered along the old 
Flaminian Way, little knowing, and as little caring, 
whither I went, till I found myself on a lofty precipice 
overlooking the Tiber, eight miles above the city. Here 
I seated myself upon a block of tufo, which Etruscan 
hands two thousand years ago had hewn into its quadran- 
gular form, unfolded my map, and for two full hours 
feasted eye and soul with the strange beauty of the scene 
around me. 

Below me, visible for many miles, flowed the classic 
Tiber, in many a graceful curve, through a rich valley, 
bounded with gently sloping hills, and here and there a 
bold promontory looking down into its golden current. 
On my left, between romantic cliffs, brilliant with in- 

s 



258 THE AMEPaCAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

numerable flowers, descended a foaming torrent— the 
Or enter a of ancient story. On its bank, five miles above, 
where I could plainly see the Isola Farnese, once stood 
the populous and powerful Yeii, for more than three 
centuries the most formidable foe of Rome. There were 
the heights on which Camillas encamped before her gates, 
and from which he wept over the flight of her miserable 
children. Near where I sat — perhaps upon the very spot 
— the noble band of the Fabii built their castle, and in 
that valley beneath me were lured within the fatal ambush. 
On a small eminence, just across the Tiber, was the Castel 
Ginbeleo, where once frowned the arx of Fidene, the 
constant ally of the Veientes in their frequent conflicts 
with the Romans. Just below it stands the Villa Spada, 
upon the supposed site of the ancient Villa Phaon. It 
was there Romulus concealed his soldiers, till he had 
drawn the Fidenates without the gates of the city ; and 
there .Nero disgracefully terminated his most disgraceful 
life. Farther down the river, just where the Anio flows 
into it from Tivoli, was another promontory, which of old 
bore the arx of Antemne, the first of the neighbouring 
cities subdued by Romulus. With the aid of my glass, I 
could trace the little valley of the Anio to the base of the 
Sabine Mountains, eighteen or twenty miles distant. 
Never looked that picturesque range more beautiful than 
on that morning. Never was the light along their lower 
slopes of a richer and softer tint, and never gleamed their 
distant snow-robed summits with a diviner glory. 

As I sat in a half-dreamy mood, superinduced partly by 
the delicious languor of the atmosphere, partly by the be- 
wildering beauty of the surrounding scenery, and partly 
by its melancholy historic associations, the dull booming 
sound of the cannon from the Castle of St. Angelo an- 
noi: ^°d the hour of noon, and the great bell of St. Peter's 
S3nt its sweet echoes over the hills. Then I arose, and 
pursued my walk, through a scene of dreary desolation, 
strewn everywhere with the ruins of long-departed power, 
and splendour. Returning to Rome across the wild 
Campagna, I discovered some distance before me what 
appeared to be a haystack ; but upon my approach, a 
number of very formidable dogs rushed out upon me, and 



ANTEMNE AND FIDENE. 259 

I was obliged to do valiant battle for my life. I soon 
ascertained that it was tenanted by other animals than dogs 
— certain very suspicious-looking bipeds, in hairy goat- 
skin breeches — whether men or satyrs, I could not say. I 
afterwards saw several of these shepherd's huts (for such 
they were), which I deemed it prudent not to approach too 
near. On the declivity of a hill I passed the mouth of 
what at first looked like a natural cave in the rock ; but, 
upon examination, found to consist of great square masses 
of stone, without any appearance of mortar ; and near it 
were the remains of several similar arches, which together 
with it must have constituted the ruins of some ancient 
building of vast dimensions. The arch seemed still to 
serve, in a manner, its original purpose ; for there was 
some straw within, with a stool, two or three kettles, and 
traces of a recent fire ; but, remembering my late ad- 
venture, I abstained from any very close inspection of the 
premises. On reaching the city, I was told that I had 
been where it was deemed very dangerous for any person, 
especially aforestiero, alone and unarmed, to venture, 

Not satisfied with the distant view I had enjoyed of 
those ancient cities, the next week I set forth, in company 
with two American gentlemen, on a pedestrian excursion 
towards Antemne and Fidene. The cities themselves, 
indeed, are no more, having perished more than two 
thousand years ago ; nor are there any traces of them 
remaining, except the sepulchral excavations in the sur- 
rounding cliffs, with here and there a detached block of 
hewn tufo, and innumerable fragments of pottery ; but the 
hills whereon they stood are near the ancient Via Salaria, 
on the left bank of the Tiber, one of them three miles 
above Rome, and the other iive. These cities appear to 
have been taken, originally, from the Siculi, by the 
Pelasgi ; and were afterwards, according to Dionysius, for 
a time, possessed by the Sabines; but were at length 
conquered by the Romans, and reduced to the condition of 
Roman colonies. 

Antemne was one of the three whose daughters became 
the mothers of the Roman race. Romulus, to people the 
new city which he had built upon the Palatine, offered an 
asylum to fugitive slaves, insolvent debtors, and all sorts 



260 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

of criminals and adventurers. By this means, he soon 
filled the place with men, such as they were; and his next 
care was to provide a proportionate number of women. 
For this purpose, he sought an alliance with the Sabines, 
but they rejected the proposal with disdain. Hereupon, by 
advice of the Senate, lie proclaimed a magnificent feast in 
honour of Neptune, and invited the Sabines from all the 
surrounding cities. They came in crowds, and brought 
their wives and daughters with them. While their atten- 
tion w 7 as taken up with the games, the young Romans, 
with drawn swords, rushed in among them, seized the 
damsels, and bore them away in their arms. The fathers, 
brothers, and lovers, of course, were greatly incensed, and 
vowed revenge. Antemne, being nearest to Rome, was 
first in the war. Romulus, however, prevailed against 
her. In a short time she was subdued, her inhabitants 
removed to Rome, and a Roman colony placed there in 
their stead. 

We passed the gardens of Sallust, and left the city by 
the Porta Salaria. Just within the gate we saw a young 
German, in the French uniform, drawing a charcoal sketch 
upon a whitewashed wall. Tt was Gasparoni and his band, 
attacked by the Roman soldiers. The figure of the chief, 
as large as life, was exceedingly fine, and the whole scene 
was full of spirit. The soldiers and the robbers were 
grappling one another with desperate energy, shooting, 
stabbing, hurling one another headlong down the rocks ; 
and many a poor fellow, doubtless after having done his 
best, lay stretched in death upon the ground. 

But meritorious as the picture was, the artist himself 
was a far more interesting study. He told us that from 
his childhood he had been an enthusiastic lover of art, and 
cherished a great desire to become a painter ; but his purse 
was not commensurate with his ambition. He joined the 
French army, thinking that if he could get to Rome, he 
might find opportunity to indulge his passion and improve 
his talent. Hitherto, however, he had been unsuccessful. 
Posted at the Porta Salaria, and having plenty of time, he 
amused himself in the manner I have mentioned. After 
fifteen minutes of pleasing conversation with him, we 
offered him a few baiocchi, which he very reluctantly ac- 



ANTEMNE AND FIDENE. 261 

cepted, and went on our way toward the i many-towered 
Antennae.' 

It is a pleasure to walk the beautiful macadamized roads 
of Italy, especially here upon the picturesque Campagna, 
where every object is so rich in historical associations ; and 
still more, when one has such companions as I had that 
day, to share his thoughts and feelings. With Gell's Topo- 
graphy and map in our hands, we were soon among the 
ruins of Antemne. The ruins, I say ; but there is scarcely 
anything to be seen, worthy of such designation. The 
site, indeed, has been most satisfactorily ascertained ; but 
there is nothing to indicate, except to the practised eye 
of the antiquary, that the place was ever occupied by a 
city. It lies on the left of the Via Salaria, just below the 
junction of the Anio with the Tiber, It is a lofty table- 
land, nearly square, and falling off precipitously on all 
sides, except that towards Rome, where a narrow ridge 
unites it to the neighbouring hill. Such situations were 
always chosen by the earlier inhabitants of Italy for the 
sites of their cities. 

We easily found the places of the four gates indicated by 
Gell, and the two eminences on which he locates the two 
citadels. Near the base of the cliff, on the southern side, 
is a horizontal excavation — probably a tomb, and doubtless 
of Etruscan date. Higher up, and a little farther towards 
the west, is a mass of rocks, piled one upon another in a 
very regular manner; but the angles are so rounded by the 
abrasion of centuries, that it is difficult to say with confi- 
dence whether it is the work of nature or of man. There 
is another cavern near the top of the cliff, and here and there 
a block of tufa in the plain below. With these exceptions, 
we saw nothing that could be called ruins. It would be a 
wonder, indeed, if there were any, after the ground has 
been ploughed and pastured for so many centuries. But it 
is no less a wonder, that a city which perished before the 
age of authentic history, should, without any such remains, 
have preserved unquestionable indications of its former 
existence ; and yet, there is no ancient city, the precise 
locality of which has been more indubitably ascertained, 
than that of Virgil's ' Turrigerce Antemnce.' 

But whatever of interesting relics may be lacking in 



262 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

the site, is abundantly compensated by its associations and 
adjacent scenery. Behind us lay the beautiful grounds 
of the Villa Albani, the Villa Borghese, and the Monte 
Pincio — a perfect forest of flowers and evergreens, beyond 
which rose the domes and towers of the Eternal City. On 
our left, at the base of the cliff on which we stood, rolled 
the Tiber in its majesty, whirling along huge masses of ice 
from the mountains, as anciently the bodies of Sabine and 
Etruscan soldiers. Farther down, but in full view, stood 
the ancient Milvian Bridge — now the Ponte Molle, where 
the hopes of Paganism perished with Maxentius. Along the 
opposite side of the river was easily traced the Via Flaminia, 
at the base of a lofty precipice, in which yawned the dark 
mouth of a cavern, the celebrated tomb of the Nasoni. 
Just before us, almost within a stone's throw, the quiet Anio 
wound its way through the green meadows, till it fell into 
the Tiber. And there at our right was the Ponte Salaro — 
a venerable relic of antiquity — perhaps the identical bridge 
which, in the year of Rome 397, was the scene of a fierce 
encounter between the Romans and the Gauls, encamped on 
opposite banks of the stream; and where Manlius Torquatus, 
like another David, smote his Goliath to the dust. On the 
same ground Tolumnius, the king of Etruria, had long be- 
fore fallen beneath the sword of Cornelius Cossus. A mile 
or two farther up the same river stood the famous Mons 
Sacer, to which, in the days of the Dictator Largius, the 
aggrieved soldiery and citizens of Rome retired to organize 
a distinct and independent community; whither an embassy 
was sent from the Senate to solicit their return, and where 
Menenius Agrippa put forth the celebrated fable, so finely 
told by Livy, of the revolt of the members of the body 
against the belly — a conference which resulted in the re- 
conciliation of the people, the reformation of the govern- 
ment, and the institution of the office of the Tribunes. 

Two miles and a half farther up the Tiber, on a high 
bluff in a bend of the river stood the Castel Giubeleo — so 
called because it was erected in one of the years of Jubilee. 
It is nothing more than a large farm-house, and interesting 
only because it occupies the ground once occupied by the 
citadel of Fidene. Between this and the height on which 
we stood was a broad plain, with the Tiber on the left, and 



ANTEMNE AND FIDENE. 263 

a low range of hills on the right. This was the great 
battle-ground between the Romans and their foes, in the 
earlier periods of their history ; and probably there is no 
other place in Italy which has been so often the scene of 
bloody contests. It was here that Romulus pursued the 
flying Fidenates within their very gates, when he first laid 
upon them the Roman yoke. It was here that Tullus 
Hostilius encamped before their walls, until he starved them 
into a surrender. It was here that Ancus Martius led his 
forces, when he entered the city by a cuniculus. It was 
here that Tarquinius Priscus thundered along with his le- 
gions, when he stormed the citadel. It was here that the 
Consuls Valerius and Lucretius inarched with their heavy 
engines to batter down the fortifications. It was here that 
their successor, Largius Flavius, six years afterw r ards, sat 
down with his flock of locusts, till famine gained for him 
what he could not achieve by the sword. It was here that 
the Dictator A. Servilius Priscus, sixty-three years later, 
marched his beleaguering host, to tunnel the solid tufa, and 
work his way underground into the centre of the city. It 
was here that Mamilius Emilius Mamercinus, four hundred 
and twenty-three years before Christ, chased the fugitives 
from the plain into their fortresses, entering after them, 
taking possession of their city, and bringing them effec- 
tually and finally under the Roman yoke. And it was 
here, on the banks of the Anio, and along the Tiber, that 
the Romans contested the ground with Hannibal, when he 
marched from Capua ; and met in deadly conflict the in- 
vading Gauls. Ah, what scenes of carnage have been wit- 
nessed from this height ! But now thousands of sheep are 
feeding peacefully in those fields ; and skylarks are soaring 
and singing as blithely over the scene, as if it had never 
reddened with blood, nor trembled with the tumult of 
battle. 

We descended the hill, and crossed the Ponte Salaro. 
This bridge, as well as the Ponte Molle, was blown up by 
the Romans in 1849, to cut off the approach of the French 
army; but the injury was comparatively small, and was 
soon afterwards remedied. The old Etruscan work is still 
plainly seen in the basement of its piers. Just beyond it is 
a very ancient building — it may have been a tomb or a 



264 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN EUROPE. 

tower — surmounted by a modern structure of the middle 
ages, and forming a very picturesque object in the land- 
scape. It is now an Osteria. We entered, and found it 
occupied by a man, a boy, three dogs, five cats, and some 
millions of fleas. In one corner was a box filled with earth, 
upon which a fire was burning, and the only way of escape 
for the smoke was the door. We sat down here to despatch 
our luncheon, but it was impossible to remain long in such 
an atmosphere. 

On the other side of the road, a little farther on, we passed 
several tombs hewn in the rock, some evidently of Etruscan 
origin, and some, perhaps, of Roman. A walk of two miles 
and a half brought us to the Villa Spada, just back of 
which, on a small conical hill, was the ancient Villa Phaon. 
The road passes around the western base of the hill ; but 
we went through the field on the other side of it, probably 
the very ground over which Nero passed when he fled 
hither from the vengeance of Rome. It was then a thicket 
of brambles ; Gell calls it 'a little wood ;' but we found it 
an orchard of olive trees. When the tyrant heard that Galba 
had taken up arms against him, he first thought of taking 
poison, then ran to plunge into the Tiber, and finally fled 
the city on horseback. Finding himself pursued, he left 
his horse, quit the highway, and crept through the bushes 
and briers to the back of Phaon's Villa. Here he drew his 
dagger to stab himself, but his courage again failed him. 
Then he desired one of his freedmen to kill him ; but his 
freedman declined the honour. Next he requested a domes- 
tic to die first, in order to inspire him with courage : but 
his domestic could not see the reasonableness of such a 
request. At length he put a dagger to his throat, and the 
servant who would not die for him assisted him to die for 
himself; and thus fitly terminated his brutal and bloody 
life. Parts of the walls of the villa are still seen upon the 
hill ; and huge masses of stone imbedded in a strong cement, 
with fragments of granite columns, have rolled down into 
the valley below. 

Just beyond this are the tombs of Fidene, excavated in 
the rock beneath the city walls. We struck a light, and 
entered one of the openings, and found ourselves in large 
rooms, fifty feet square, which communicated one with 



ANTEMNE AND FIDENE. 265 

another. There were niches for cinerary urns, and benches 
of rock for the bodies of the dead. One we found tenanted 
by a shepherd, whose entire knowledge concerning the ori- 
gin and history of his strange abode was comprised in three 
words — s II grotta antica? The top of the hill bears un- 
equivocal remains of masonry ; the walls are easily traced, 
and the sites of the several gates are quite evident. On 
the almost insulated height occupied by the Castel Giubeleo, 
it is supposed, with great probability, stood the principal 
arx ; and there may have been another on a similar eleva- 
tion to the north-east of it, where are many tombs in the 
cliff, and traces of foundations on the top. The rugged 
steep on all sides is covered with a dense growth of briers, 
and the whole area above is adorned with white daisies and 
purple crocuses. 

Fidene was a great and powerful city in the days of Rom- 
ulus ; but she has utterly perished, and the ruin oiAntemne 
is not more complete. The occasion of her first capture was 
the seizure by her citizens of several boats, sent down the 
Tiber from Crusiumerium, laden with corn for the Romans. 
Her subsequent history is nothing but a series of struggles 
against her conqueror — of successive rebellions and sub- 
missions to Rome. Again and again she threw off the 
yoke ; again and again it was laid with double weight upon 
her shoulder. At length Rome deemed it best to pluck the 
thorn from her side ; and about four hundred and twenty- 
three years before Christ, Fidene was totally demolished. 
But the place was re-colonized under the emperors, and 
for some time it was a flourishing Roman settlement, and 
a favourite resort of the Roman people. During the reign 
of Tiberius, one Attilius gave a gladiatorial entertainment 
there, when a wooden amphitheatre, erected for the pur- 
pose, broke down ? killing fifty thousand spectators. It is 
now a wild dreary down, where shepherds lead their flocks ; 
and after having walked across and around it, up and down 
the hills, in every direction, and finding nothing more 
than I have mentioned, we returned to Rome, and entered 
the gate just before sunset, having walked not less than 
eighteen miles during the day. 



( 266 ) 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 

Historical Sketch— Our Visit— The Campagna— Isola Farnese — 
Antonio Valeri — Tarpeian Rock — Utter Desolation — Ponte Sodo 
— Necropolis— Painted Tomb — Fornm of Roman Municipium — 
— Columbaria — Second and Third Visits — Additional Discoveries 
— Serpents — Piazza D'Armi — Temple of Juno — La Scaletta — 
— Grotta Oampana — Return to Rome. 

Veit, the most opulent and powerful city, of ancient Etru- 
ria, was situated eleven miles north of Rome. It is said 
to have been founded by Propertius, and was at the acme 
of its prosperity eight hundred years before Christ. Dio- 
nysius says that it was equal in extent to Athens, and not 
inferior in architecture to Rome. Its circumference, as 
indicated by the present aspect of the ground and the re- 
maining traces of the wall, could not have been less than 
six or seven miles. The style of the masonry differs entirely 
from that of the Romans, consisting of large blocks of stone, 
generally rectangular, and fitted together without any sort 
of cement, proving a much higher antiquity than any remains 
of the neighbouring city of Romulus, 

Of this great city we have no certain information, except 
what the Roman writers have furnished us in the record of 
their wars. Her chronicles are notices merely of successive 
contests with her powerful foe ; and since ' the man, and 
not the lion, drew the picture,' chiefly of successive disas- 
ters and defeats. It is melancholy, indeed, to trace her 
bloody trail across the field of history; but let us remem- 
ber, that except for that bloody trail, we should never have 
known so much as the name of Veil, and her eleven Etru- 
rian sisters. Florus calls the Yeientes ' the unceasing and 
annual enemies of Rome ;' and no less than fourteen dis- 
tinct wars with that powerful rival, all within four hundred 
and fifty years, are registered by the historian. 

The first of these was with Romulus, to avenge his cap- 
ture of the neighbouring city of Fidene. The second was in 



OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 267 

aid of Fidene against Tullus Hostilius. The third was in 
self-defence, against the ambition of Ancus Martins, The 
fourth was in alliance with eleven other cities of Etruria 
against Tarquinius Priscus. In all these wars, of course, 
the Romans were conquerors, as their own historians tell 
the story. About the year of Rome 180, the Veientes again 
threw off the yoke, and were followed by the rest of the 
confederation, and the succeeding twenty years was a series 
of bloody contests with Servius Tullius ; whose arms, how- 
ever, according to the records, were always victorious. 
Sixty-five years after this war ended, the Veientes espoused 
the cause of Tarquinius Superbus, who for his profligacies 
and oppressions had been driven from the throne of Rome ; 
and a battle ensued near the Arsian Wood, in which Aruns, 
the son of the exiled king, and Brutus, the first consul, fell 
by each other's hands ; after which the forces of confederate 
Etruria, under Porsenna their leader, marched to the inva- 
sion of the Eternal City. After another treaty, followed 
by twenty-four years of peace, the Veientes were battling 
once more with the Roman legions. Servius Cornelius 
Cossus defeated them as usual, and then granted them a 
truce ; but in five years more the rebels were again in the 
field, and marched boldly up to the Roman camp, and 
dared the foe to the combat ; upon which a severe battle 
ensued, and very likely the Romans came off second best, 
though the historians assert the contrary. 

In the following year, while Rome was pressed by the 
Veientes on the one hand, and the Equi and the Volsci on 
the other, occurred an instance of patriotic devotion to 
which there is scarcely a recorded parallel. When several 
plans had been suggested for repelling the Veientes, and 
the senate seemed greatly perplexed and straitened, Ceso 
Fabius, the consul, and chief of the Roman patricians, 
arose and said : ' Conscript Fathers, look ye to the Equi 
and the Volsci, and leave the Veientes to the Fabii. The 
republic hath need of men and money elsewhere : be this 
war at our expense : we will engage to uphold the majesty 
of the Roman name ' The next day the whole body of 
the Fabii — three hundred and six in number — all of the 
noblest patrician blood, with the consul at their head, 
marched forth from the city, amid the prayers and joyful 



268 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE, 

shouts of the populace. ' Never,' says Livy, ' did an 
army so small in number, or so great in action, and in the 
admiration of their countrymen, march through the streets 
of Rome.' When they reached the Cremera, they pitched 
their camp on a precipice-girt hill, and further protected 
it by a double fosse and numerous towers. Here they 
maintained themselves for a year against all the efforts of 
the Veientes to dislodge them, ravaging their territory, 
and annoying them in many ways ; till the consul, 
Emilias Mamercus, defeated them, and obliged them to 
sue for peace. The next year, however, they renewed the 
war, and determined to accomplish by stratagem what 
they had heretofore vainly attempted by force. They laid 
an ambush on the banks of the Cremera, and then sent 
shepherds down the valley with their flocks. The Fabii, 
beholding these from the height of their castle, descended 
like an eagle upon the prey. But as they were returning 
with the spoil they had taken, the foe rushed forth upon 
them in overwhelming numbers. Bravely did they battle 
for their lives, till the last man fell covered with wounds ; 
and only a boy escaped, who lived to preserve the race, 
and be the progenitor of Fabius Maximus. 

This achievement of the Veientes was but the prelude 
to a nobler victory. They routed the Roman army under 
the command of the Consul Menenius, and took possession 
of the Janiculan Hill. Here they maintained themselves 
for many months, menacing and annoying the city, till 
they were at length dislodged by the consuls. The next 
year they were again defeated by Valerius, and the year 
following by Manlius, from whom they obtained a peace 
for forty years. In the year of Rome 309 they resumed 
hostilities. Seven years later they espoused the cause of 
the Fidenates, who had thrown off the Roman yoke, and 
slew the Roman ambassadors sent to demand an explana- 
tion. Soon after this they engaged the foe, under the 
command of Mamelius Emilius, on the bank of the Tiber, 
and Lars Tolumnius, their king and commander, was 
cut down by the sword of Cornelius Cossus. Again and 
again they met their enemies on the same field, and again 
and again the crimsoned current of the Tiber reported the 
slaughter to the inhabitants of Rome. Nay, again and 



OLD ETEUSCAN VEH. 269 

again they marched up to the very gates of the city, and 
the foster-children of the she-wolf quailed before them. 

At length, in the year of Rome 349, the Romans laid 
siege to Veii, and being at peace elsewhere, brought their 
whole force to bear against their ancient foe. When the 
siege had already continued eight ypars with little or no 
success, a remarkable phenomenon furnished the occasion 
of victory. The Alban Lake, occupying the crater of an 
extinct volcano, suddenly rose to an unprecedented height, 
and threatened to burst its boundary, and devastate the 
Campagna with floods. Sacrifices were offered to the 
gods, and messengers were sent to Delphi to consult the 
oracle. The answer was, that if the Romans would drain 
the lake by tunnelling the mountain, they should save 
their citv, and stand victors on the walls of Veil. Mean- 
time, a prophecy to the same effect had been uttered by 
one of the Veientes, first to a Roman soldier, and subse- 
quently to the Roman senate. In the course of another 
year the lake was drained as the goddess directed, and the 
Romans fought with new confidence of victory. Camillus, 
w r ho was now appointed dictator, and assumed the com- 
mand of the army, taking a hint, perhaps, from the tunnel 
at Albano, began to work a cuniculus, or mine, under the 
citadel of Yeii. The siege had lasted ten years when the 
cuniculus was finished. It was carried up to the very 
floor of the Temple of Juno, which was within the citadel. 
The king was there, consulting the oracle, wh^n Camillus 
with his men burst through the floor, and ascended as 
from the infernal regions, and took possession of the city. 
So runs the story, which, however, I do not hold the 
reader strictly bound to believe, since Livy does not 
appear to believe it himself. 

Half a century after this the place was utterly deserted ; 
and at the commencement of the reign of Augustus Caesar 
it was only a pasturage for flocks. That emperor esta- 
blished a Roman colony upon its ruins, which flourished for 
a season, and then fell into decay, and was finally aban- 
doned. Veil was now obliterated from the map of Italy, 
and the very place where it had stood remained unknown 
for ages. When, on the revival of letters, attention was 
called to the subject of Italian antiquities, its site became a 



270 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

matter of dispute, and eight or ten different localities were 
assigned by as many different antiquaries. Later re- 
searches have settled the question ; and there is now no 
doubt that the ruins I am about to describe are the 
remains of that once magnificent rival and mighty adver- 
sary of Rome. They lie scattered over a lofty triangular 
table-land, seven miles in circumference, nearly sur- 
rounded by two streams, which flow along at the foot of 
the precipice — one of them called 77 Formello, and the 
other II Fosso del due Fossi — which unite below to form 
the Valca — beyond all question, the ancient Cremera. A 
position stronger by nature could scarcely have been 
selected ; and in the days of Veii, nothing was more im- 
portant than such a situation. 

I resolved on an early visit to the ruins. Two of our 
American friends, an artist and his wife, cheerfully con- 
sented to bear us company. Abate Scotti, the friendly 
priest, generously volunteered his services in procuring us 
a vettura for the trip. The morning was clear and 
beautiful, just suitable for such an excursion. How 
merrily we rattled down the Via Frattina, and up the 
Corso, and through the Porta del Popolo, and along the 
old Flaminian Road, and over the ancient Milvian Bridge ! 

An hour and a half brought us to the castle of Isola 
Farnese — a building of the middle ages, upon substruc- 
tions of a much earlier period. It is perched, like an 
eagle's nest, upon a steep and lofty rock, apparently 
inaccessible on all sides, except that by which we ap- 
proached. In connection with it is a hamlet of miserable 
huts, tenanted by some twenty-five or thirty souls, which 
might be suspected of being human, if their bodies were 
not too evidently Italian. The precipice in every direc- 
tion yawns with caverns, manifestly the work of human 
hands, where many of the ancient Veians doubtless ' slept 
their last sleep,' hard by the walls on which they ' fought 
their last battle.' 

The arx or citadel of Veii, as some have imagined it, 
this place never could have been ; for there is a broad 
valley between it and the city, with a stream three hun- 
dred feet below, and no appearance — scarcely a possi- 
bility — of any direct means of communication. It has 



OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 271 

been supposed, also, to be the site of the castle of the 
Fabii; but this is still more unlikely than the former 
opinion ; for the situation, so near the city, would by no 
means answer the purpose of the Roman Spartans, and such 
a locality is quite incompatible with the facts of the history. 

But what have I to do with the quarrels of antiquarians ? 
or what boots the discussion of their sage conjectures, after 
both Fabii and Veientes have mouldered for so many cen- 
turies in the dust ? Besides, one of our party insists that 
this was the citadel of Veii, because she came to see it as 
such, and will not consent that it shall be anything else ; 
and it were surely ungracious in me to explode her castle 
in the air, when nobody is likely to be benefited by its 
catastrophe. 

At the foot of Isola Farnese we halted, and soon had 
around us about two-thirds of the village population. 
Murray and Dennis both speak of ' the worthy Antonio 
Valeri,' as keeping the key of ' the Painted Tomb,' and 
ready to conduct strangers among the ruins. For him, 
therefore, I immediately inquired ; but the thin and sallow 
rag-screens shook their heads sadly, and replied, ' Antonio 
e morto, signore — Antonio e morto.' At first I suspected 
this for an Italian trick, with a view to personal pecuniary 
profit ; but upon further interrogation, it turned out that 
Mr. Dennis's i big burly ' friend had indeed departed this 
life at the time the Pope departed for Gaeta ; and as there 
are no * happy-death' papers published hereabout, Murray* 
had probably never heard of his demise ; and his 
Handbook recommends the dead man to lead us through the 
buried city and among its ancient sepulchres. Shade of 
Tolumnius, protect us from such a cicerone ! Not that I, 
for my part, loved Antonio less — for I had begun to 
regard him already as an old acquaintance, and I felt that 
in his death I had lost a friend, and mourned his untimely 
fate with the sincerest sorrow — but that I loved our fair 
fellow-pilgrims more, and knew that they needed some- 
thing more substantial than such ghostly help in climbing 
the rugged heights and threading the tangled thickets 
before us. To our great grief, we learned also that the 
key of the Painted Tomb was missing — whether Antonio 
* What was the edition of the doctor's Murray ? — Ed. 



272 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

had taken it with him, or it had been lost since he left the 
Isola, they did not inform us — and that it would be 
impossible to see the interior of that celebrated monument 
of ancient art and affection. But, determined to make the 
best of our double disappointment, we selected the most 
honest-looking cut-throat of the gang, forthwith installed 
him as poor Antonio's successor, and followed him, on 
foot, over rock and ruin, amid the melancholy remem- 
brances of the times of old. 

Descending from the Isola by a winding way, we 
crossed the Fosso del due Fossi near a modern mill, where 
the stream plunges over a precipice into the gulf eighty 
feet below, forming one of the most beautiful cascades I 
have ever seen, while the cliff above rises some two hun- 
dred feet higher. Nibby supposes this to have been the 
Tarpeian Rock of Veil, whence criminals were precipitated 
headlong to their fate. Perhaps it was— I shall not con- 
trovert his opinion ; but we do not know that the Veians 
had any Tarpeian Rock, or needed any ; and if they prac- 
tised any such mode of punishment, a hundred other places 
in the neighbourhood would have answered the purpose as 
well as this. 

Here our artist sat down to take a sketch, and we went 
forward to await him on the heights above. We ascended 
by a steep and narrow passage cut through the tufa, which 
must have been the site of a gate, for on each side are 
evident traces of the wall. Reaching the summit of the 
hill, from which we could see nearly the whole area of the 
city, nothing met the view but wild and desolate downs, 
scattered over with huge blocks of hewn stone, foundations 
of massive walls, fragments of marble and pottery, here 
and there a copse of briers and brushwood, and a fringe of 
larger growth upon the brink of the precipice enclosing the 
whole. There were no large and lofty remains, like those 
of Rome, of Athens, or Egypt, majestic even in their 
decay — no Coliseum, nor Parthenon, nor Pyramids — 
nothing, indeed, at first sight, to remind one that here 
stood the stately structures and swarmed the busy popula- 
tion of a mighty city — the southern bulwark of Etruria, 
the most formidable enemy of infant Rome, and for 
nearly four centuries her rival in military prowess, and her 



OLD ETKUSCAN VEIL 273 

instructress in the arts of civilized life. As Dennis says, 
' The very skeleton of Veil has crumbled to dust — the city 
is its own sepulchre,' Yet in this vast area was ample 
room for the play of imagination. What scenes of joy 
and sorrow have been witnessed here — what meetings and 
partings of lovers — marriage festivities and funeral so- 
lemnities — the hum of the market-place and the grave 
deliberations of senates — the charm of popular eloquence 
and the divine fascinations of song — kings crowned and 
uncrowned — solemn embassies entertained — armies mus- 
tered for the conflict ! And now there is not a sound to 
be heard but the distant barking of a shepherd's dog, and 
the sweet chant of the skylark and the nightingale filling 
the solitude with joy. 

In half an hour the sketch was completed, and the 
sketcher rejoined the company. We now went across the 
fields towards the north, passing several fragments and 
foundations, also a place which had lately been excavated, 
where we found some fine pieces of white and coloured 
marble. Then we descended to the Formello, which 
washes the b.ise of the cliff that bore the city wall. At 
the place where we crossed the stream appear to have been 
a gate and a bridge. From this point we followed the 
brook, with a steep, rocky bank on the other side of it, 
surmounted here and there by the remains of ancient 
masonry, till we came to the Ponte Sodo, This is a 
tunnel, through which the, stream flows, two hundred and 
forty feet long, about fifteen feet wide, and nearly twenty 
feet high. At first, it might be taken for a natural forma- 
tion ; but upon further examination it turns out to be 
evidently artificial. I entered it as far as possible without 
wading in the water, and found that in the roof there 
were two square apertures, which may have been the 
mouths of sluices, or perhaps communicated with the 
towers above. On the top, in a line with the wall, are 
two mounds — one of them very large, indicating, as Gell 
thinks, a double gate. Here, then, must have been one of 
the chief entrances of the city, and this excavated rock 
was the bridge over which rolled the chariots of Porsenna 
and Tolumnius. It is likely, from the form of the ground, 
that the stream originally passed around this place, some 

T 



274 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

distance from the cliff, and this tunnel was made in order 
to bring it close under the city wall. 

At the mouth of the cavern we sat down to refresh our- 
selves with a luncheon. The view was exceedingly fine. 
The precipice of gray and yellow tufo, in alternate layers, 
adorned with the greenest lichens and the most delicate 
blossoms, and overhung by a luxuriant growth of ilex and 
iv} T , from which at intervals peeped out fragments of the 
ancient wall ; the dark excavation below, with the water 
dripping from its roof, and sparkling like diamonds in the 
sunshine as it fell into the soft, pure stream : all this, 
independent even of any associations of the past, was full 
of beauty. Our artist thought it worthy of his pencil, and 
employed another half hour in sketching. 

From the bridge, twenty or thirty minutes' walk down 
the valley brought us to the Necropolis. The tombs are 
excavated in the side of the hill, opposite the city. There 
are several tiers of them, one above another. A large 
number — Dennis says ' thousands ' — have been opened, 
robbed of their precious contents, and their entrances 
again filled up with earth. The Queen of Sardinia, who 
owned the land, formerly let it out to excavators — most of 
them dealers in antiquities at Rome — who rifled them of 
their urns, vases, jewelry, statuary, and everything con- 
vertible into cash, and then closed them up again. 

We clambered up the hill to the entrance of the 
Painted Sepulchre — the oldest and most interesting yet 
discovered in Italy, and perhaps not less ancient than any 
of the remains lately found amid the mounds of Assyria 
and Babylonia. And now it was, O Antonio Valeri, that 
we profoundly lamented thy untimely fate ! Hadst thou 
lived, thou ' big, burly' friend of George Dennis, doubt- 
less the key had not been lost, and we might have explored 
the interior of this famous charnel-house of antiquity ! 
There, indeed, was the avenue, cut into the side of the hill 
towards the centre, eighty feet long, six feet wide at the 
entrance, and ten at the mouth of the tomb ; and there 
were the four couchant lions that have guarded it faithfully 
for twenty-five centuries or more — two of them headless, 
but still erect — the other two, fallen and shattered ; and 
there was the huge rough wall of ancient masonry, and 



OLD ETEUSCAN VEIL 275 

the modern iron grating through which we looked into 
one of the dark side-chambers, and the modern iron door to 
the principal vault where slept the mighty dead — it may 
have been one of the kings of Veil ; but there was nothing 
more to be seen ! It was enough to incense a saint ; and I 
could have scourged the whole vagabond herd of I sola Far- 
nese, with the pope and his cardinals besides, for suffering so 
interesting a relic of the past to lie thus neglected ! Near 
this, however, as an instance of the law of compensation, 
so much talked of by our modern sages, I found another 
sepulchre, standing open, and containing a sarcophagus in 
perfect preservation, the cover of which appeared never to 
have been removed, Who knows what mav be in that 
sarcophagus ? 

From the Necropolis we descended again to the Formello ; 
and a little farther down, came to amass of masonry, which 
seems to have been the pier of a bridge. On the other 
side was manifestly the site of a gate flanked with towers ; 
between which were remains of the pavement, deeply 
grooved by the chariot-wheels. Not far from this, in a 
place which still bears evidence of modern excavations, 
though overgrown with tangled and impenetrable briers, 
antiquaries locate the forum of the Roman 3funicipium 9 
erected here in the reign of the Emperor Augustus. Here 
were found the colossal busts and statues already mentioned 
as being in the Vatican, and the twelve Ionic columns of 
marble which sustain the portico of the post-office at 
Rome. 

Just at the gate, and on both sides of it, are the famous 
Columbaria — consisting of a great number of niches, 
hewn in the perpendicular rock, to receive the urns con- 
taining the ashes of the dead. These, as Dennis supposed- 
belonged to the Roman Municipium, though Gell and 
Lenoir both regarded them as part of the Necropolis of 
ancient Veil. The Columbaria, when first opened, con- 
tained stuccos and paintings in excellent preservation ; but 
these, with the cinerary urns, have long since disappeared ; 
and I found nothing in the niches but some purple crocuses, 
of which I gathered a few for Mrs. C.'s herbarium. 

Nine days elapsed, and I revisited Veii, in company with 
an agreeable countryman, who took great delight in archseo- 



276 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

logical investigations ; and a week afterwards I went again, 
in capacity of cicerone to a party of six, three of whom were 
English clergymen. In both instances, we spent the whole 
day, and made the entire circuit of the walls, and wandered 
over the area which they enclosed in every direction, walk- 
ins: each time not less than twelve miles. We met with 
many interesting remains which in the first visit had escaped 
my notice, and examined largely and at leisure those of 
which I had then taken but a brief and superficial survey. 
Some hours we lingered about the Ponte Socio, climbing 
the cliffs, tracing the walls, and scrutinizing the remains of 
those enormous towers. We discovered a fragment of the 
' massive stone masonry, resting* upon a substruction of 
bricks, each three feet long,' which Gell mentions in his 
Topography of Rome ; but which Mr. Dennis, after ' beat- 
ing the bush on all sides,' failed to find. Mr. Dennis, by 
the way, though an agreeable journalist, is not a very 
profound archaeologist. In reference to Veii, at least, though 
he says he spent many days here, his observation must have 
been quite superficial, and his statements are often careless 
and inaccurate. 

From the Ponte Socio we ascended the stream to the 
Ponte Pormello, at the upper extremity of the city ; and 
between these two bridges we discovered the remains of a 
third, which is neither mentioned in any of the books, nor 
marked on any of the maps. The masonry of one of the 
piers is very apparent, and blocks of pavement strew the 
bed of the stream. From near the Ponte Formello, we 
traced the ancient street, spoken of by Gell and Dennis, 
through the entire length of the city, to the Piazza 
(TArmi. In it course, about midway between these two 
extremities, we found some massive substructions almost 
concealed amid briers and brushwood, which it was ex- 
ceedingly difficult to penetrate. Nearly its whole extent is 
strewn with square blocks of tufo, fragments of polygonal 
pavement, pieces of marble and terra, cotta, and remains of 
walls cropping out at intervals along the bank. 

During this walk a great number of serpents darted 
across our path, and others lay sunning themselves upon 
the rocks. One of these was a very formidable creature, 
not less than eight feet long, and of proportionate thickness. 



OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 277 

I saw also several vipers, one of which I despatched with 
my staff. They lay in every case near their holes, which 
they sought immediately on being disturbed. These venom- 
ous little reptiles abound on the Roman Campagna, and 
especially amid the ancient ruins. We often met with that 
beautiful creature, which the Italians call fi II Ragone '— 
a bright green lizard, about a foot long, of very graceful 
form, and perfectly harmless, which glides through the 
grass, and feeds on the insects which it finds. Lizards of 
a smaller species are seen everywhere by thousands, here, 
and all over Italy. 

The Piazza d'Armi is a table-land, eight or ten acres 
broad, separated from the main area of the city by a narrow 
valley, which is not very deep ; enclosed on its three other 
sides by bolder cliffs and deeper gulfs than in any other part 
of the ground ; and situated in the angle of the two streams 
that encompass the city, just above where they flow together. 
If this was not the arx, it certainly ought to have been ; 
for it is a far more eligible locality than the rock of 
Isola, or any other elevation in the vicinity ; though I am 
not unwilling, if it be deemed necessary, that Veil should 
have had two citadels — one here, and another at Isola. 

Within the arx, wherever it was, stood the temple of the 
great Veian goddess. Dennis sought diligently, but could 
find no traces of such an edifice here, for the very best of 
reasons — the remains were all below the surface. My 
young friend and I were more fortunate. At the very 
point where the arx must have connected with the city, we 
came upon recent excavations, apparently of last summer ; 
and there we saw a white marble sarcophagus, as perfect, 
with the exception of the cover, as when it was made ; 
large slabs and fragments of the same material, white and 
coloured ; pieces of columns and cornices, and walls more 
massive than any we had found before. The marbles may 
have belonged to the later Roman Muntcipium ; but these 
walls were most indubitably remains of the earlier Etruscan 
Veil ; and I am sure, if Mr. Dennis had seen them, he 
would have said at once, ' Here stood the Temple of Juno.' 
They have been uncovered in half a dozen different places, 
but the excavations are not sufficient to show the plan of 
the building. I have no doubt, however, from what was 



278 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

visible, that if the examination were continued, the walls 
would be found very extensive. In some places they are 
built of lar^e oblong blocks of tufo, four feet in length and 
two in thickness, and fitted together without cement. The 
blocks are laid with perfect regularity, those of one tier 
across those of another, so that the surface exhibits the 
sides and the ends in alternate layers. These walls seem 
constructed for eternity. The chariot-wheels of thirty 
centuries have rolled over them, grinding their upper por- 
tions into dust, and forming a soil of many feet above 
them ; but the solid masses beneath remain unmoved, just 
as they were laid by the builders. Such work can perish 
only by the slow process of abrasion, and the mouldering 
of its very material. 

I stood upon the verge of this lofty promontory, and 
' from the top of the rock ' looked down into the glens on 
either hand, through which, far beneath me, wound the two 
streams that nearly encompassed the ancient city, and the 
broader valley below, through which their united waters 
pursued their way to the Tiber. All was still and desolate 
as death ; not a dwelling in sight, except a shepherd's hut 
in the distance ; not a sound to be heard, except the bleat- 
ing of the sheep, and the baying of their shaggy keeper. 
How different the scene, when from the same height 
Camillus gazed upon the wild tumult of the battle, and 
listened to the shouts of the victors and the shrieks of the 
vanquished, and saw the flames ascending from the burning 
city, the women and children flying across the distant hills, 
his brave soldiers pressing in through every opening, and 
the Fossi at his feet rolling red with the blood of the slain ! 
No wonder the conqueror wept ! 

Dennis speaks of a ' curious staircase,' discovered in 
1840, by the washing away of the earth in the top of the 
bank, beneath the city wall, just opposite the Piazzi 
d Armi. We made long and laborious search for this in- 
teresting object, going up and down the little valley, and 
climbing the rock at every accessible point. At length, 
we ascended to the top ; and as we walked along the brink, 
looking down among the thick bushes' and brambles, I 
saw what I thought to be a piece of hewn stone projecting 
from the bank about ten feet beneath me. Taking hold of 



OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 279 

a little tree, I swung down, and at once found myself stand- 
ing upon La Scaletta. It was a happy accident. The 
philosopher, when he leaped naked from his bath r and ran 
shouting his discovery through the city, scarcely felt a 
greater joy. Dennis says that he saw the object of our 
quest from the valley, and clambered up to it with great 
difficulty. I can easily believe the latter statement, but 
the former is not quite so credible. He counted only eight 
steps ; but four others must have been uncovered since, for 
there are now twelve to be seen. I worked my way 
through the briers, and walked down them, and up again. 
There must have been originally not less than eighty or a 
hundred, but the lower ones have fallen, and lie in ruins at 
the bottom. The object of these stairs is not apparent, 
though it is conjectured that they led to a postern gate 
from the Via Veientana in the valley. 

But the most interesting thing to be seen at Veil is the 
famous Painted Tomb. We found that a new key had 
been made, and the passage cleared of its rubbish, and half 
a scudo procured our admittance into this mansion of the 
dead. It is called La Grotta Campana, in honour of its 
excavator and proprietor, the Cavalier e Campana, of 
Rome. It was discovered only fourteen years ago, and has 
been preserved as it was found, with all its decorations and 
its furniture, except that the ancient stone door, which had 
been demolished, is replaced by a modern one of iron. 

The tomb consists of two rooms, hewn out of the rock. 
The first may be fifteen feet square. In a wall opposite 
the entrance is a doorway, communicating with the inner 
chamber. The paintings are on this wall, each side of the 
doorway. They are of a rude and grotesque character, 
indicating a very early stage of the art. They consist of 
a variety of animals, with several men and two boys on 
horseback, with flowers interspersed, and an ornamental 
border. The form and colour of the animals are very 
strange and curious. There is a sphinx, not crouching, as 
in Egyptian sculpture, but standing, and that on legs of 
most disproportionate length. It has wings, too, which 
are curled at the tips, and striped with red, black, and 
yellow ; straight black hair, hanging down behind the 
head ; red face and bosom, with white spots ; yellow body 



280 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

and tail, which are also spotted; two legs red, one black, 
and another yellow. Behind the sphinx is a rampant 
panther, and beneath him an ass or a deer, both parti- 
coloured like the sphinx. 

Under this group is a horse still taller than his hybrid 
neighbour, and looking as if he needed provender. His 
head is well proportioned, and his neck handsomely arched, 
his breast and hind-quarters large, but his body exceedingly 
slender. He has a black head, red neck and body, yellow 
mane and tail, haunches black, one leg black, another 
red, and the other two yellow with red spots. He is led 
by a red groom, who is naked ; and ridden by a naked red 
boy, with a cat crouching behind him, one paw familiarly 
placed upon his shoulder. The cat is particoloured like 
the horse, and there is a particoloured dog running by his 
side, and a man with something like a battle-axe marching 
before him. 

On the other side of the doorway is a large beast — per- 
haps a tiger — with his mouth open, and his tongue hanging 
out, and a couple of do^s beneath him ; and above this, a 
horse, with a boy upon his back, and a spotted pard behind 
him sitting on the ground. All these animals are parti- 
coloured and spotted, like those before described. Around 
each group or square is an ornamental border of lotus- 
flowers, and various flowers and plants are interspersed 
among the figures. All this must have some symbolical 
meaning; but what that meaning is it needs a Daniel to 
tell — at least a Rawlinson or a Gliddon. 

On either side of the chamber is a projecting bench of 
rock, with one end a little elevated, resembling a couch 
with its pillow. On each of these, when the tomb was first 
opened, was found a human skeleton ; but as soon as they 
were exposed to the air, they crumbled to dust. The one 
on the right seems to have been a warrior, slain in battle ; 
and we saw the helmet which was upon the head, pierced 
through by some sharp weapon, and a broken spear by its 
side, with a bronze lamp and a candlestick. No armour 
was found with the skeleton occupying the opposite bench ; 
and it is likely that this was the wife of the warrior. On 
the floor sit four large earthen jars, three feet high ; and 
several smaller ones, of different form; all of which are 



OLD ETRUSCAN VEIL 281 

ornamented with paintings or bas-reliefs, in the earliest 
style of Etruscan art ; and which, when the tomb was 
discovered, contained what was supposed to be human 
ashes.. 

The ceiling of the inner chamber has two beams, carved 
in relief, extending from wall to wall. On three sides are 
benches of rock, each sustaining a square chest of earthen- 
ware, about eighteen inches long and a foot high, with an 
arched lid projecting over the sides like the roof of a house, 
and the figure of a human head carved upon the top, and 
eight tall jars, some of winch are painted with red and 
yellow bands, and two stand in pans of terra-cotta, with 
animals executed in relief around the rim. There are 
many smaller jars or vases sitting upon the ground, probably 
all of a cinerary character. In the centre of the apartment 
stands a bronze brazier, with three feet, about six inches 
high, and twenty broad, which may have served for burning 
perfumes to destroy the effluvium of the sepulchre. On 
the back wall we saw six circular figures, painted in various 
colours. Our cicerone called them crowns, and perhaps 
this is what they are intended to represent. If so, the 
skeletons found here may be those of royal personages — 
perhaps some king and queen, who reigned in Veil before 
Romulus was born, or -ZEneas touched the Italian shore. 
But who or what the occupants were, when they lived or 
how they died, there is no record to inform us ; no clue to 
their character or station, except what may be gathered 
from the furniture and artistic decorations of the place. 
Upon the wall, on two sides of the room, are many 
stumps of nails, which have rusted away, on which perhaps 
shields were hung, or something more precious, which 
the hand of the spoiler removed centuries ago. Bronze 
mirrors, animals wrought in amber, and terra-cotta images 
of men and gods, were also found here ; but they have 
been taken away, and placed in the proprietor's collection 
of Etruscan antiquities at Eome. 

At the entrance of the tomb, opening upon the same pas- 
sage, is a side-chamber — a sort of porter's lodge to this 
palace of the mighty dead. On one side of it is a couch of 
rock, with rudely carved legs ; but the form that lay upon 
it in its last sleep has long since disappeared ; and nothing 



282 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IIST EUROPE. 

remains but the furniture — a plate or two, a drinking-cup, 
a bronze mirror, perfume vases, and scattered fragments of 
pottery. 

As we were leaving Isola, on our return to Rome, the 
villagers offered us several articles for sale, which had been 
taken from the tombs of Veil — vases, ewers, and lamps of 
terra-coita, and human figures of the same material. One 
fellow proffered us an earthen goddess, about as large as a 
man's finger, for which he demanded one scudo ; we pro- 
posed to give him two panls, whereupon he shook his head, 
kissed the figure, and pressed it to his heart with great 
affection. At the same time we were closely besieged by 
some seven or eight ragged boys and dirty girls, imploring 
us for the love of the Blessed Virgin to endow them with 
a few baiocchi. Seeing there was more begging than 
bargaining, we drove unceremoniously away ; and in a few 
moments were flying along the beautiful Via Cassia, 
towards the tomb of the Eternal City, whose strategy 
triumphed over the valour of Veil. 



( 283 ) 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

TRIP TO TIVOLI. 

Basilica of San Lorenzo — Wayside Glimpses — The Solfatara — 
Tomb of Plautins — Villa of Adrian — Ancient Tibnr — Modern 
Tivoli — Temples of Vesta and the Sibyl — Roman Villas — Plea- 
sant Prospects — An Italian Tempest — Return to Home. 

But him, the streams which warbling flow 

Eich Tibur's fertile vales along, 
And shady groves, his haunts, shall know 

The master of th' Eolian song. 

Having previously arranged with our friends Mr. and 
Mrs, Johnson to accompany us in the excursion, early on 
the morning of the thirteenth of May we set forth for Tivoli. 
The distance is about eighteen English miles, and the ride 
at this delightful season of the year is full of pleasure. 
Most of the foreigners who were here, journeyed northward 
several weeks before, leaving Honie just as its rural en- 
virons began to put on their vernal beauty. Those who 
would see this interesting region in the perfection of its 
charms, should by all means remain till the middle of May, 
when the Campagna is covered with wild flowers in endless 
variety, blooming amid the ruins of antiquity, and all the 
air is vocal with the songs of the skylark and the nightin- 
gale. 

We left the city at the Porte San Lorenzo, named from 
the Basilica of San Lorenzo about a mile beyond. There 
are within the walls two or three ether churches of San 
Lorenzo, but this is more ancient than any of them. There 
is a monastery in connection with it, also a public cemetery 
close by. and the descent into the Catacombs of Santa 
Ciriaca, where the body of San Lorenzo is reported to 
have been first interred. 

About two miles farther on, and three miles from the gate, 
we crossed the Anio or Teverone on the Ponte Mamolo — so 
called because it was built by Mamea, the mother of Alex- 
ander Severus. The country thence to the Sabine Mountains 
is a continued succession of luxuriant pastures and wheat 



2 £4 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

fields. Here and there upon the heights appeared ranges 
of trees, enclosing farms and villas ; and occasionally some 
massive square tower of the middle ages rose in solitary 
grandeur amid the plain. Twelve miles from Rome we saw 
Castel Arcione, a picturesque ruin, on the brow of a green 
hill, overlooking the road, where it has stood more than 
four centuries in its present dismantled condition, having 
been demolished by the Tivolians to dislodge a body of 
brigands who had made it their stronghold. Near this, in 
two or three places, we struck upon the old polygonal pave- 
ment of the Via Tiburtina, the general course of which is 
followed by the modern road all the way to Tivoli. 

Among the most interesting objects in our route were the 
Lago de* Tartari and the waters of the Solfatara. The 
former being close to our road, we alighted and walked along 
its margin. It is a small body of water, depositing a cal- 
careous substance upon everything that grows around it, 
enclosing reeds and bushes with a solid incrustation of stone, 
and thus by its own action continually contracting its limits. 
La Solfatara, the ancient Aquce Albulce, consists of three 
small lakes, of similar nature, but more strongly impregnated 
with sulphur. A bituminous substance is constantly rising 
from the bottom, collecting in masses upon the surface, and 
forming little floating islands, which are driven by the wind 
against the shore, where they adhere and harden. Thus, 
like the Lago de' Tartari, the Solfatara is constantly di- 
minishing, and will probably in process of time be entirely 
covered over. It was formerly much larger than now, and 
sometimes overflowed, producing malaria. To prevent this 
inconvenience, Cardinal d'Este cut a canal, two miles long 
and nine feet wide, through which a milky torrent rushes 
down to the Anio. These waters were in high repute among 
the ancients for their sanitary virtues, and much frequented 
on account of the oracle of Faunus, whose temple stood in 
a sacred grove upon the shore. Virgil represents Latin us 
as coming hither to consult the god, and receiving during 
the night a mysterious answer. But the oracle is forgotten, 
the sacred grove is uprooted, and the very site of the temple 
is unknown. There are still some remains, however, of the 
baths built by Agrippa, frequented by Augustus, and en- 
larged and beautified by Zenobia. Throughout the whole 



TRIP TO TIVOLI. 285 

neighbourhood there is a strong smell of sulphuretted hydro- 
gen gas, which is far from being pleasant to delicate olfac- 
tories. The surface of the surrounding fields is an incrusta- 
tion gradually formed over the water, and the hollow sound 
which it yields to the tread evidently betrays the existence 
of an abyss beneath. 

A mile or two nearer Tivoli we recrossed the Anio on 
the Ponte Lugano. This bridge is said to have taken its 
name from the Lucanians, who were here defeated by the 
Romans; more probably, however, from the tomb of 
Plautias Lucanus, which stands just at its eastern end. 
This is a large round tower, built of huge blocks of traver- 
tine^ and resembling the sepulchre of Cecilia Metella, both 
in its original form and in its subsequent appropriation. 
During the middle ages it was used as a military station, 
and for this purpose surmounted by a battlement ; a cir- 
cumstance barbarous in point of taste, but in these particular 
instances not to be regretted, as it preserved two fine monu- 
ments of antiquity from destruction. Near this bridge are 
seen the extensive quarries whence the ancient Romans 
obtained the stone called travertine — more properly tibertine 
— which they employed so much in building. 

From this point the road begins to ascend the mountain, 
passing the ruins of the magnificent Villa Adriana, which 
stood upon the plain at its base. This villa, like everything 
else planned by its imperial proprietor, was extremely grand 
and spacious, and exceeded every other villa in Italy. It 
was eight or ten miles in circumference ; and comprised, 
besides the palace, three theatres, four temples, a naumachiL r 
a hippodrome, barracks for soldiers, halls for philosophers, 
an ample library, a splendid museum, numerous porticoes 
and fountains, and various edifices the names and objects of 
which are now unknown. Excavations are constantly 
bringing to light statues, columns, and marbles of the rarest 
kinds ; while weeds and brambles cover the mounds and fill 
the stuccoed halls ; and gardens, and vineyards, and olives, 
and laurels, and cypresses, wave over ail in melancholy 
confusion. 

Hence, through a continuous grove of olive-trees, we 
mounted the steep to Tivoli. Tivoli is the indent Tibur — 
a place of great antiquity, and of some considerable import- 



286 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ance in history. It appears to have been originally a city 
of the Sicani, and called Sicilio or Sicaletum. The Siculi 
were in possession, when Tib urt us, ovTiburnus, commander 
of Evander's fleet, came and expelled them, and gave his 
own name to the city. Tibur is not mentioned in Pliny's 
list of the Latin Confederates, who were accustomed to 
meet at the temple of Jupiter Latialis on the Alban Mount. 
Perhaps, being superior in opulence or force, the Tiburtines 
slighted the alliance. They were not subjected by the 
Romans till the time of Camillus and the fall of Veil ; a 
calamity which they would scarcely have escaped so long, 
had they not been a powerful people. This is further 
evident from the fact, that in the year three hundred and 
ninety-six before Christ, they ventured even an attack on 
Rome. They had several tributary towns, and a somewhat 
extensive territory. 

Tivoli now contains six or seven thousand inhabitants. It 
is not handsomely built, and its denizens resemble very 
much those of some other Italian towns of which I have 
written. Its situation, however, upon the side of the Sabine 
Mountains, nearly a thousand feet above the sea, and com- 
manding a fine prospect of the Campagna, with the dome of 
Saint Peter's rising majestically in the distance, is as de- 
lightful as the most enthusiastic admirer of the beautiful 
could desire. But its great charm consists in its cascades, 
and the surrounding scenery. Over these my better-half, 
very properly, in her own sober way, went into poetic rap- 
tures. Therefore I shall attempt no description, prudently 
leaving the whole subject to her happier quill, and devot- 
ing mine to the antiquities of the place. 

Arriving at the piazza, we left our carriage, and hastened 
to the little circular temple upon the cliff, where we sat down 
to our collazione, beneath that graceful portico in whose 
shadow Augustus and Maecenas often reposed, and Virgil 
and Horace mingled the music of their lyres with the roar 
of the flood. This structure — sometimes called the Temple 
of Vesta, and sometimes the Temple of the Sibyl — is already 
so well known through the tourist and the artist, as to 
need no additional description. It is admired, not for its 
dimensions, but for its fine proportions, and its romantic 
situation. It stands uncovered in the court of the inn, 



TRIP TO TIVOLI. 287 

but its own solidity seems a sufficient protection. Of its 
eighteen pillars, ten only remain, with their entablature and 
cornice. Thirty or forty years ago, an English nobleman 
undertook to purchase it, with a design of transporting it 
to England, and placing it in his own park ; but the Roman 
government interposed and prevented the devastation ; and 
I felt thankful to Pius the Seventh, when I saw it hanging 
there on the crest of the precipice, with 

* The rapid Anio, headlong in its course,' 

fretting and foaming through the caverned rocks three 
hundred feet below. There it stands, a beautiful fragment 
of Augustan grandeur, dating from the very time when 
God laid in Mount Zion the ' precious Corner-stone' of an 
imperishable temple. It has survived the empire, the re- 
ligion, and the very language of its founder ; and after 
nearly nineteen centuries of tempest and revolution have 
passed over it, still challenges the admiration of the 
traveller. 

Near this stands the fragment of another temple, consist- 
ing of four pillars, now forming part of the wall of a 
church ; and this, like the other, has been called both the 
Temple of Yesta and the Temple of the Sibyl. These are 
almost the only vestiges of ancient Tibur. During the 
days of the empire, thirty or forty of the richest Romans 
had their superb villas here ; but these have all passed away, 
and no traces of them are found, except here and there a 
massive substruction of rectangular blocks, or a fragment 
or two of opus reticulatum, which it is impossible to iden- 
tify. Our cicerone pointed out to us the supposed sites of 
those of Varus and Catullus, across the ravine, opposite the 
town ; one of them now occupied by a church, and the 
other by a convent. Farther clown the mountain, command- 
ing a broader view of the Campagna, with the town and the 
cascades of the Anio, is the locality assigned to that of 
Horace ; while that of Maecenas is said to have crowned a 
lofty precipice on the other side of the torrent, just where 
the sportive Cascatella now leaps from the brow of the 
rock. 

Having finished our collation, we descended into the glen, 
and explored the caves of Neptune and the Sibyl, and 



2S8 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

watched the water that poured down in three beautiful 
sheets apparently from the sky, and saw the rainbow com- 
passing with beauty the cloud of spray at the foot of the 
grand cascade. Then we ascended the opposite bank, 
passing a lately excavated line of arches, which Signor 
Antonio — this of course was his name — informed us be- 
longed to the baths of Vopiscus. There is little reliance 
to be placed upon these guides in matters of antiquity, but 
this time Antonio is very likely to have been right, for 
Vopiscus certainly had a magnificent villa at Tibur, and 
Horace speaks of it as being located in the dell, and actu- 
ally overhanging the stream. Above this we passed through 
the long double gallery, cut through the mountain, to 
divert the current of the Anio from its ancient channel, at 
the lower end of which the torrent precipitates itself head- 
long into the gulf below. Our companions were now quite 
fatigued, and so Mrs. C. and myself left them behind, and 
continued our walk along the curving bank of the ravine 
upon our left, with the concave side of the olive-shaded 
mountain on our right, beguiled by the beauty of the dell, 
with its sparkling cascatelL, the fragrance of flowers, and 
the warbling of birds, unmindful of time and distance, till a 
dark cloud suddenly frowned over the brow of the mountain, 
and the heavy roll of thunder admonished us to return. 

It was vain to inquire now for the villas of other wealthy 
and famous Romans, which once adorned these delightful 
localities — those of Cocceius, Lepidus, Plautus, Mesius, 
Celius, Brutus, Cassius, Piso, Capito, Sallust, Popilius, 
Flaccus, Atticus, Valerius Maximus, and many more, who 
resorted hither for fashion, or friendship, or rural quiet. 
All have disappeared and left nothing but their names 
behind, with the unalterable charms of nature, its shady 
glens and gleaming waters, its groves and gardens, and 
orchards, and cool recesses, which still flourish and blossom 
in unfading beauty. As I stood and gazed upon the grand 
cascade above, and the two smaller ones below, from a 
point in the road where all were in full view before me — 
as I saw the waters leap laughing down the declivity, 
through thickets and brambles, here spangled with diamonds, 
and there lighted up with rainbows — the blooming vines 
that hung over the channel, or bathed in its current — the 



A TRIP TO TTVOLI. 289 

river below, fretting through the rocky arch which it has 
excavated for itself — the grey foliage of the olive-orchards, 
and the graceful sweep of the surrounding hills — I was 
almost ready to join the bard in the prayer — 

* May Tibur to my latest hours, 

Afford a kind and calm retreat ; 
Tibur, beneath whose lofty towers 
The Grecians fixed their blissful seat ; 
There may my labours end, my wanderings cease, 
There all my toils of warfare rest in peace V 

But a sudden peal of thunder broke my meditations, and 
hastened our tardy footsteps. The shower overtook us on 
the road, however ; and we sought a temporary shelter, 
with four very unpoetic-looking Italians, and ten thousand 
fleas, in an ancient grotto, containing a pretty fountain, 
which may have belonged to the villa of Catullus, but 
seemed now to have become the common resort of cattle 
and swine. The rain abated in about fifteen minutes, and 
we hastened our return, through no small depth of mud 
and water, to our companions and the carriage. But now 
the storm began in earnest, the wind blew a tempest, and 
the rain fell in torrents, with peals of thunder that shook 
the mountains around us, and flashes of lightning which 
seemed to set the rocks on fire. An hour or more, ' the 
prince of the power of the air ' raged over us in his wrath ; 
and then gathered up his cloudy robes, and marched mut- 
tering over the hills, leaving the bluest of skies and the 
brightest of landscapes behind him : and we, with impres- 
sions of the grand and the beautiful never to be forgotten, 
mounted our carriage, and rode through a fairy-world, 
sparkling with diamonds, and musical with the song of 
rivulets, down the Sabine slopes, and over the wide Cam- 
pagna,. till the towers and domes of the Eternal City rose 
before us, as if painted upon the gorgeous clouds that half 
veiled the setting sun. 



( 290 ) 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



THE ALBAN MOUNT. 



Strada Ferrata to Frascati — Antonio — Villa Kufinella — Tuscu- 
lum — Cicero's Villa — The Alban Lake — Alba Longa — Emi- 
sario — Kuins of Roman Villas — Castel Gondolpho — La Riccia 
— II Rosignuolo — Lanuvium — A Priest at Play — Nemi — Float- 
ing Palace — Monte Cavo — Return to Rome. 

Twelve miles south of Rome, rises from the level Cam- 
pagna a picturesque group of volcanic hills. Its nearest 
and loftiest summit, Monte Cavo, the ancient Mom 
Albanus, or Mons Latialis, is about four thousand feet 
high, and crowned with a white convent, occupying the 
site of the Temple of Jupiter. The base of the whole 
group must be forty or fifty miles in circumference ; and 
the entire region abounds in scenic beauty not surpassed in 
Italy ; and rocks, and groves, and glens, and streams, 
strewn with the memorials of antiquity, still echo the 
strains of Virgil and the voice of Cicero. 

I had admired the distant view from the dome of Saint 
Peter's, the Castle of St. Angelo, and a hundred other 
places within and arpund the city ; and still more, when we 
passed over the western slopes of the mountain on our way 
to Naples ; and had longed to climb its sunny heights, and 
trace its sylvan ravines. And now the time was come, as 
fair a morning as ever smiled from heaven. As we passed 
through the Porto Maggiore, the fresh breeze from the 
Campagna came burdened with the odour of blossoms and 
the anthem of birds. A vast extent of green fields spread 
out before us ; and beyond rose the romantic hills, in their 
enchanting robes of blue and purple ; over which towered 
the remoter Apennines, with their pearly crests of snow ; 
the whole reposing under a vault of the purest azure. 

My companions were the Rev. Mr. Hall and Mr. 
Bartholomew, the American sculptor. Our first stage was 
by Strada Ferrata to Frascati — twelve miles — the only 
piece of railway Rome can hitherto boast, though another 



THE ALB AN MOUNT. 291 

is begun to Civita Vecchia. Half the distance we were 
overshadowed by the towering arches of the aqueducts, 
which supplied the ancient city, 

' And increased 
Proud Tiber's waves with waters not his own/ 

About three-quarters of an hour brought us to the termi- 
nus, and an omnibus conveyed us up the acclivity, through 
a scene of indescribable beauty, into the town. 

Frascati arose, in the thirteenth century, from the ruins 
of ancient Tusculum, which occupied an elevation two 
miles above. Its population is about five thousand ; but 
during the summer it is always crowded with Eomans and 
forestieri. Its situation, on the side of the mountain, is 
exceedingly fine ; but there is very little in the town itself 
worthy of special notice. Its chief attraction is its villas, 
of which there are eight or ten, some of them very exten- 
sive. The only one we visited belongs to the wealthy 
banker Torlonia ; the walks and fountains of which would 
be very pretty, if kept in good condition ; but it seems a 
pity that one man should possess so much as to be able to 
pay proper attention to none of it, especially where multi- 
tudes are perishing for lack of bread ! 

Our first care, after a little refreshment, was to procure 
donkeys and a driver. I believe about half the men in 
Italy are called Antonio. We had an Antonio to light us 
down into the Catacombs, and an Antonio to lead us 
through the ghostly solitudes of Pompeii, and an Antonio 
to show us the antiquities of Amain" and Eavello, and an 
Antonio to conduct us up the mountain stairway of Sant 5 
Angelo, and an Antonio to introduce us to the grottoes 
and cascades of Tivoli, and Murray promised us an Antonio 
to open for us the Etruscan tomb of Veii ; and now another 
Antonio — a mere skeleton covered with an olive skin, with 
eyes as big as tea-saucers, proffers his services in capacity 
of donkey-teer, to accompany us in our rambles over the 
Alban Mount.- This olive-coloured skeleton Antonio 
proved a very amusing character ; and, in the sequel, 
something of a humbug withal. He was the very same 
fellow, if I mistake not, who drove Grace Greenwood's 
beast to Tusculum, and showed Fanny Kemble Butler the 
path to Mons Algidus, and professed so intimate an acquaint- 



292 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ance with the brigand Gasperoni. He could speak several 
languages, and all in the same breath ; beginning a sen- 
tence in Italian, continuing it in French, and finishing in 
English. When we expressed our surprise at the copious- 
ness of his learning, he laughed vociferously, and informed 
us that he could speak German and Russian also, and 
6 leetle Greek and Hebrew!' If Cicero was mentioned, 
Cicero was a ' great schoolmaster,' but never knew half so 
many languages as Antonio ! If Hannibal was referred 
to, Hanibal was a brave general ; but Antonio would 
prove himself a braver, only give him an opportunity ! If 
Julius Caesar was spoken of, Julius Caesar ascended to the 
Temple of Jupiter Latialis on this same Via Triumphalis ; 
but Antonio had travelled it a hundred times, where Julius 
Caesar had travelled it but once ! In short, this Antonio, 
believe him, was the greatest map^ except the Americans, 
that had ever yet trodden the Alban Mount ! 

Just above Frascati we passed the ruins of a large 
circular tomb, called, I know not on what authority, the 
Tomb of Lucullus. A little farther up we came to the 
Villa Rufjinella, once the residence of Lucien Bonaparte, 
and famous for an audacious attempt of the banditti to 
seize and carry off his daughter on the eve of her marriage. 
They entered while the family were at dinner, but succeeded 
in getting possession only of the secretary and two 
domestics, whom they bore away into the Yolscian Moun- 
tains, and demanded of the prince six thousand scudi for 
their ransom. 

Still ascending, through an avenue shaded with laurel 
and ilex, we soon reached the brow of the hill, covered 
with the ruins of Tusculum, the birthplace of Cato, and 
the favourite residence of Cicero, at present tenanted by a 
respectable population of lizards, and we chased the lithe 
ragone Italiano along the walks of Tully. There were 
the remains of a theatre and an amphitheatre, part of the 
ancient wall of the city, the evident substructions of the 
citadel, the polygonal pavement of the street, fragments of 
a temple or two, and traces of a fine villa, with baths and 
cisterns. 

An extensive ruin was pointed out by our big-eyed 
Antonio — who professed to be as great an archaeologist as 



THE ALB AN MOUNT. 293 

philologist — for the remains of Cicero's Villa. With due 
respect to Antonio, however, permit me to say that this 
matter is somewhat dubious. Some fix the site here, others 
at the Villa Ruffinella, and others again at the Grotta 
Ferrata, nearly two miles distant ; and bricks with the 
orator's name upon them, and other materials which appear 
to have belonged to his buildings, have been found in all 
these localities. If this was the place, he certainly had a 
delightful situation, and enjoyed as noble a view as any 
Roman could desire : Mons Latialis before him, crowned 
with the snowy fane of the tutelary divinity of the empire ; 
the beautiful plain of Latium, extending from its base to 
the sea ; and the scene of his own glorious labours, the 
metropolis of the world. 

Cicero had many villas, remarkable for their grandeur 
and magnificence ; and this, probably, surpassed them all. 
It was his favourite country seat, and he had both the taste 
and the means for making it all that was desirable. More- 
over, it had belonged to Crassus, the richest of the Romans ; 
and afterwards to Sylla the Dictator, who was not inclined 
to spare any pains or expense in its embellishment ; and 
had been purchased at an enormous price by the orator, 
and enlarged, and furnished with additional ornaments. It 
had a lyceum, a portico, a palestra ? a library, a gymnasium, 
and an academy, all adorned with numerous statues and 
paintings, and surrounded by shady groves and avenues. 
Its proximity to Rome enabled its proprietor to enjoy the 
leisure and the liberty of solitude, without removing too 
far from the city ; and here he wrote two at least of his 
immortal treatises, and communed freely with his learned 
friends. 

From Tusculum we proceeded, by Grotta Ferrata and 
Marino, to the Alban Lake. The distance is six miles, 
and the scenery is everywhere ' even as the garden of Eden.' 
Only a single incident broke the monotony of enjoyment, 
to wit, the falling of my donkey over a heap of ruins, which 
came near making a ruin of his rider. I declined mounting 
him again, but walked with a wounded limb, till we reached 
the lofty ridge whence the ancient Alba Longa looked 
down into the broad basin at its feet. Here we dismissed 
the learned Antonio and his long-eared companions, who 



294 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

returned to Frascati, leaving us at leisure to explore this 
interesting locality, and pursue our pleasant pilgrimage on 
foot. If the scenery hitherto was delightful, this was more 
than magical. Imagine a deep circular hollow, seven miles 
in circumference, high up on the side of the mountain ; 
and this hollow half filled with the purest water, and sur- 
rounded with lofty and precipitous banks, covered with 
trees of perpetual verdure ; from which one sees at a glance 
the whole extent of the Roman Campagna, bounded by the 
Mediterranean on the west, with the Eternal City in the 
centre. On one side, overlooking the lake, and enjoying a 
boundless prospect, stands Castel Go?zdolfo, the summer 
residence of the pope. On the opposite side, at the foot of 
Monte Cavo, overhanging the water at the height of six 
hundred feet, is Palazzuola, a Franciscan monastery, 
having some interesting antiquities in its garden. 

This beautiful basin is evidently the bed of an ancient 
crater ; for the rocky strata of its rim, upheaved by subter- 
ranean forces, lie shelving out on all sides. The water is 
of great depth at the centre, and as clear as crystal ; and 
so protected by the surrounding heights, that its surface is 
never ruffled by a breeze. The ridge, almost perpendicular 
on the inner side, and quite steep on the outer, is very 
narrow at the summit, in some places barely wide enough 
for the road. Yet on this narrow ridge Alba Longa 
flourished before Rome was founded. The city must have 
consisted of a single street, and probably extended half way 
round the lake. 

Alba Longa is known to us only in Roman story, 
dignified while it stood by its contests with the city of 
Romulus, and immortalized after it fell by Livy's eloquent 
description of its fate. It perished six hundred and fifty 
vears before the Christian era, and by some modern sages 
its very existence has been treated as a fable. All tradition, 
however, attests the fact ; and here, upon the white rocks, 
where Sir William Gell locates it, are evident indications 
of a very ancient city. We traced through bush and 
bramble, for a mile or more, the narrow street, in many 
places cut through the solid rock, and deeply worn by the 
wheels of vehicles. There is a legend, relating that the 
royal residence stood on a lofty precipice overhanging the 



THE ALBAS MOTTXT. 295 

water ; and when one of the kings provoked Jupiter by his 
wickedness, he smote it with his thunderbolts, and it fell 
shattered into the lake below, carrying the impious monarch 
along with the ruins of his palace. And it is a remarkable 
fact, attested by tourists and topographers, that just at the 
foot of the highest and steepest portion of this rocky 
rampart, lies a huge mass apparently rent from the summit, 
with large rectangular blocks, which manifestly once formed 
part of a building, and are much more ancient than any of 
the Roman remains in the neighbourhood. According: to 
Dionysius, Alba Longa was the mother of thirty Latin 
cities, among which he reckons Rome itself; and Antemnse, 
Fidenae, Crust umeri urn, and several others along the 
Tiber, are said, on tolerable traditional authority, to have 

7 7 1/7 

been her earliest colonies. 

The waters of Lacus Alb anus were anciently three 
hundred feet higher than they are at present. During the 
ten vears' sieo^e of Yeii by the Romans, without rain, and 
probably by volcanic agency, they suddenly rose to an 
unwonted height, threatening the devastation of the Cam- 
pagna. A Yeian prophet, taken prisoner by the Romans, 
told them of a current saying in Veii, received from the 
Etruscan Oracle, that the city w r ould never be taken by an 
enemy till the waters of the Alban Lake forsook their 
ancient channel. The old man was brought before the 
Roman Senate, where he re-affirmed the statement. The 
Senate sent to consult the Delphic Oracle in Greece, 
which was good enough to confirm the prophecy, with a 
little amplification by way of ornament. Now the Romans 
began to bore the side of the mountain, and in less than a 
year the rim of the basin was pierced quite through with a 
tunnel four feet wide and six feet high. Thus the lake was 
lowered without damage to the Campagna, and soon after- 
wards, as the oracle had promised, the Romans stood 
victors on the walls of Yeii. 

This Emissario, as it is called, still remains ; a monu- 
ment, no less of Roman energy than of Roman superstition. 
It seems almost incredible that the work should have been 
accomplished in so short a time, and some have thought it 
must have occupied ten years instead of one. Think of a 
tunnel, more than a mile and a half in length, cut out of 



296 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

the solid rock with chisel and mallet ; yet so low and 
narrow, that, at the utmost, not more than three men could 
operate at the same time. There are several openings into 
it, however, from the surface of the rock above ; so that 
the workmen probably descended through these, and began 
simultaneously at different points along the designated line 
of excavation, thus greatly expediting the work. 

The emissary, being on a level with the lake, is about a 
thousand feet above the surface of the sea. The water 
flows tl. rough it with a gentle and uniform current, varying 
with the season from two to three feet in depth. Its 
entrance is just under the walls of Castel Gondolfo, almost 
concealed by trees and shrubbery, but quite accessible to 
him who is willing to pay the price by climbing the rugged 
steep after having explored it. There is so much sediment 
now upon the bottom of the passage, that it is difficult to 
penetrate farther than about a hundred feet ; but half this 
distance is sufficient to reveal the character of the work, 
which still displays the marks of the iron upon its walls and 
roof, as distinct as if they had been made but yesterday. 

Between the margin of the water and the base of the 
precipice, quite round the lake, extends a narrow ring of 
level land, strewn with the remains of Roman villas, over- 
shadowed by venerable trees. These villas were probably 
constructed in the time of the emperors, long after the lake 
had been lowered by the emissary. The place is known, 
indeed, to have been then a fashionable summer resort of the 
Roman patricians ; and so delightfully salubrious is the air 
around this romantic spot, that not only the pope, but also 
many citizens and sojourners at Rome, often make Castel 
Gondolfo their temporary abode during the season of 
oppressive heat. 

The palace of the Holy Father is a spacious building, 
without any external decoration, except its ancient groves 
of ilex, and its lofty Galleria di Sopra. The latter is a 
beautifully shaded avenue along the summit of the ridge 
that encircles the lake, where the pope is accustomed to 
walk at eventide ; but I am sure His Holiness never 
enjoyed the scenery more highly than we, nor relished 
more keenly the voice of the nightingale that welcomed us 
on our way. 



THE ALBAtf MOUNT. 297 

We spent the night at La liiccia, two miles beyond 
Castel G-ondolfo. This is the ancient Ariccia, where 
Horace lodged the first night on his journey to Brundusium ; 
but not at the house of old Martyrelli, I suspect ; for not- 
withstanding his white locks, he is manifestly a modern 
Roman, though one of the noblest of them all. By the 
way, the poet's donkey must have been a very poor one, or 
the poet himself but a dilatory pilgrim, not a Jacob, nor a 
Julius Caesar, to have travelled only fourteen miles during 
the first day. What a paradise is this Valariccia, with the 
Chigi Park, and the sylvan retreats around, once the haunts 
of Hippolytus and the nymph Egeria ! and the melancholy 
story of Hippolytus is told in gorgeous frescoes on the 
walls of our albergo. 

We walked out in the quiet moonlight, across the lofty 
bridge which connects the village with Albano. We were 
on the old Appian Way, with many a relic of antiquity on 
both sides, among which stood conspicuous the tomb of 
Etruscan Aruns, the son of King Porsenna. In the dewy 
vale beneath us chanted a thousand nightingales ; and after 
lingering beyond the limit of prudence to listen to their 
pleasing strains, we returned to our hotel, threw open our 
upper windows, and laid our heads upon our pillows, to be 
lulled into dreams of Eden by soft melodies from the grove. 
In the morning, long before sunrise, the little minstrels were 
6 tuning their mellow throats' again, and I was out listening 
to them upon the bridge. Two of them were answering 
each other from two contiguous hollies, in short snatches of 
ineffable sweetness. Never in my life had I heard music 
which so deeply touched my heart ; and when Mr. B. came 
to summon me to breakfast, I sat bathed in tears. The 
Italians call this incarnation of melody il rosignuolo, and 
talk in raptures of its song. There is indeed an indescriba- 
ble tenderness in it, unrivalled by that of any other bird. 
Our Southern forest minstrel has more variety, but less 
pathos, in its lay. Critics have not been able to agree 
whether its song is sad or gay, I shall not undertake to 
decide the question ; but accept, dear reader, with due 
gratitude, the following sonnet of the late Richard Winter 
Hamilton, D.D., of Leeds : 



298 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

' Mysterious Murmur ! Where, and what, art thou ? 

Song in the night ! Or art thou more than song ? 

Then more than feathered songster ! Here along 
The fragrant copse thou peal'st melodious vow, — 
Whether of grief or joy I cannot trow. 

A wail of anguish ! Who can doubt that strain ? 

The thorn is in its breast ! And then again 
That long-drawn cadence out yon willow bough ! 
I list once more : It trills a joyous lay ! 

Thy pensive sadness now has found relief ! 
Like canzonet of fl ow'ret hooded fay ! 

Yet seemed those mirth-notes oft constrained and brief ; 
For still, methought, thy joy was never gay, — 

Perhaps, like me, thou know'st the joy of grief! 1 

Breakfast, two donkeys instead of three, a driver not less 
worthy of long ears than the poor quadrupeds that he 
cudgelled ; and we are away through Gensano, past Monte 
Giovo, following the descent of a lofty ridge of ancient lava 
far down into the plain, where it terminates in a bold pro- 
montory, crowned with the miserable kennel called Lavinia, 
built from the worthier ruins of Lanuvium, and surrounded 
with massive fragments of masonry older than the founda- 
tions of Rome. As we approached a small acclivity near 
the gate, we saw a company of twenty or thirty men, with 
a priest in his robes at their head, running down towards us, 
with loud cries and violent gesticulations. Mr. EL was 
alarmed, Mr. B. was amused, and the scribe and the quad- 
rupeds were miscellaneously affected. None of us knew 
the cause of the excitement ; and before we had time for 
conjecture, two large cheeses came rolling down among us, 
endangering the legs of donkeys and the necks of riders. 
We dexterously avoided a collision, and paused to observe 
the proceeding. The men were bowling at a mark, and 
the lucky wight who hit it oftenest in a given number of 
times, was entitled to the cheese. They seemed to enjoy 
the game with a special zest, and were so engrossed that 
they scarcely noticed the three forestieri, though we rode 
through the midst of them. 

I believe Lavinia is seldom visited by tourists, but I 
have found nothing in Italy more wonderful than these 
ancient walls. The Temple of Juno Sospita is still stand- 
ing, and likely to stand till its very stones become dust, 
such is the admirable solidity of the structure. Connected 



THE ALBAN MOUNT. 299 

with it is a wall extending along the hill-side, of which I 
measured some of the stones, and found the largest eleven 
feet long and five feet thick. Parallel with the wall, and 
running the whole distance, is the most perfect piece of 
old polygonal pavement I met with in the country. Lanu- 
vium was one of the confederate cities of Latium, memo- 
rable as the birthplace of Milo, of Murana, of Eoscius the 
Comedian, and of the three Antonini. 

After a stroll of two hours, we retraced our steps. 
Without the gate, the men were still occupied with their 
arduous amusement, and the number had quadrupled, and 
the two cheeses had become seven, and the enthusiasm of 
the game had increased in the same proportion. We saw 
no one at work, for it was a festa day in honour of one of 
the saints ; yet the church appeared to be unoccupied, and 
few people were left in the town, for nearly the whole 
population had turned out to the cheese-bowling ; and the 
parish priest — for such was the reverend ecclesiastic we 
had seen — was foremost in the race, and loudest in the 
laugh ! 

Hence to Lake Nemi, precisely like Lake Albano, only 
not half as large, and about two hundred feet higher. The 
Castle and town of Nemi adorn its eastern shore, standing 
on a lofty cliff which overhangs the water. Opposite sits 
Gensano on its wooded bank, with the Campagna and the 
seacoast beyond. Towards the south rises Monte Arte- 
misio, once adorned with the stately temple of Diana ; and 
at the base of the rock gushes forth the romantic fountain 
of Egeria. The woods remain on all sides, as when Ovid 



sang of 



' The sacred grove, 
The fields and meadows that the Muses love.' 



The Roman emperors delighted in the scenery of this 
lake ; and Trajan built a magnificent floating palace, and 
moored it in the centre. This singular edifice was more 
than five hundred feet long, nearly three hundred feet wide, 
and sixty feet high. It was constructed of the most durable 
timber, adorned within and without in the most costly 
manner, and supplied by means of pipes with abundance of 
the purest water from the Fountain of Egeria. The lake 
encircled it, like a wide moat around a Gothic castle ; and 



300 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

to prevent it from rising too high, a subterranean outlet 
was formed like that at Albano. In the sixteenth century, 
Marchi, a learned and ingenious Roman, descended in a 
diving machine to the bottom, where he found great quan- 
tities of brass and other metals, and made such explorations 
as enabled him to give a satisfactory description of this 
remarkable building. 

From Nemi we ascended Monte Cavo. After climb- 
ing two or three miles, we came to the Soldier's Lodge, on 
the ancient post-road to Naples. This institution has 
a curious history. A Neapolitan princess passing over the 
mountain was attacked by brigands, and narrowly escaped 
with her life. She immediately sent a number of soldiers 
hither to guard the pass ; and when she died, left a sum of 
money to be applied in perpetuity to their support. The 
road has been abandoned for the last three centuries ; but 
the fund cannot be diverted from its original purpose, and 
a sergeant and six soldiers are kept here continually, 
guarding nothing but the rugged mountain-side, and the 
dreary chestnut forest. ' How do you spend your time 
here ?' I asked one of them, as he lounged lazily in the 
sunshine. ' We hunt a little,' he replied, ' and play 
mora' 'But have you no books to read?' ' Oh, yes, the 
lives of several saints, and three novels.' i And have you 
no Bible V ' We do not know that book ; we never saw 
it.' 'Does a priest never visit you?' 6 Oh, very often, 
and confesses us too.' ' How long does he remain when 
he comes ?' { Generally not long ; but when we have 
plenty of wine he stays all night, and we play many games 
at cards.' 

As we continued to ascend, the sweet voice of the cuckoo 
rang out from the shady copse ; and on its clear liquid 
tones I floated back to boyhood and to Somersetshire, where 
I had last heard it thirty-two years before ; and all the 
sorrows of those thirty-two years were compensated by the 
pleasure of that single hour. Another effort and we are on 
the summit ; where all the Latin tribes, with the Romans 
at their head, of old assembled annually to offer their com- 
mon sacrifice ; and where the victorious generals with 
their armies were accustomed to repair after a triumph, and 
present their grateful acknowledgments to the tutelar deity 



THE ALB AN MOUNT. 301 

of the nation. A temple of so much importance must 
have been a costly and magnificent structure, and we are 
informed that Augustus appointed regular corps of troops 
to guard the place and protect the sacred treasures. 
Raised on so lofty a pedestal, this superb temple must have 
been a very imposing object, when seen from Rome, or 
from any part of the Campagna. But not one stone of it 
now remains upon another ; except here and there a mass 
of hewn travertine, or a bit of polished marble, built into 
the clumsy walls of the ugly convent of the Passionists, 
which occupies the ground whereon it stood. The Via 
Triumphalis may still be traced in its winding course down 
the side of the mountain, with the letters ; N. V,' cut at 
short intervals in the imperishable pavement, trodden only 
by sandalled monks, and pretty peasant girls, and a few 
forestieri. Half way down the steep stands the church of 
the Madonna del Tufa, where the Blessed Virgin, a long 
time ago, arrested a large mass of rock as it fell from the 
brow of the mountain, and prevented it from doing immense 
mischief to the villas and vineyards below ; in gratitude for 
which deed of distinguished goodness one of the popes 
erected this temple to her honour. 

Mons Latialis is in the JEneid what Mount Ida is in the 
Iliad, the commanding eminence whence the celestial 
powers watched the vicissitudes and fortunes of the war. 
Here sat the * Queen of heaven/ and 

' Surveyed the field, the Trojan powers, 
The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine towers.' 

And no situation could have been more favourable to the 
survey. Here lies the scene of half the -ZEneid, spread out 
like a map at your feet ; the whole Eutulian territory, the 
landing-place of the Trojan fugitive, the seven hills where 
Evander reared his humble capital ; and the ancient Al- 
bula, ' with a pleasant stream, whirling in rapid eddies, and 
yellow with much sand, rushing forward into the sea.' On 
the other hand rise Monte Pila and the 'Gelidus Algidus ' 
of Hoi-ace ; separated by a broad valley from Monte de' 
Fiori, and c the white rocks of Tusculum ;' beyond which is 
seen the whole Sabine range, with Tivoli, Monticelii, Pa- 
lombara : and still farther, the purple pyramid of Soracte, 
and the volcanic chain of Monte Cimino, like a wall of 



302 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

amethyst and jasper enclosing the glorious prospect. The 
Alban Lake seems so near, that one might almost drop a 
stone into its waters ; and Nemi, embosomed in a green 
circular valley, lies just beyond, ' like a dewdrop in the 
hollow of a leaf;' and all around, upon every swell of the 
landscape, the white walls of convents and villages peep 
from their sylvan coverts — Albano, Gensano, Marino, La 
Biccia, Palazzuola, Castel Gondolfo, Rocca di Papa, 
Grotta Ferrata, and many a nodding tower, and many a 
mouldering tomb. Which things having seen and sur- 
veyed, we descended from our classical Nebo, across the 
vast crater where Hannibal pitched his camp, along the 
sweet fields of Prince Aldobrandini which line the Via 
Latina, through orchards, and vineyards, and shady 
groves, and flowery avenues, where the viper lurks in the 
luxuriant grass, and the graceful ragone darts through the 
laurel hedge, and the brook that comes down from Tuscu- 
lum murmurs a soft bass to the wild melody of the 
rosignuolo, that sings the sun to rest ! 



( 303 ) 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

LA CHIESA DEL GESTJ. 

Excursion — Churches of Sanf Agnesia and Santa Constantia— 
Mons Sacer — Catacombs of Sanf Alessandro — Tombs and 
Columbaria — Church of Domine Quo Vadis — Catacombs of San 
Calistro and San Sebastiano — Sepulchre of Cecilia Metella — 
Miscellaneous Perambulations — La Chiesa del Gesu — The 
Music — The Sermon — The Collection — The Illumination — The 
Effect — Disinterested Benevolence — Kemarks on Preaching — 
Eelease from Purgatory — Kome is finished. 



During the latter half of our sojourn in the Eternal City, 
we fortunately made the acquaintance of an excellent 
American lady, long resident in Rome, who, with her 
gentlemanly son and amiable daughter, showed us no little 
kindness, calling almost daily with her carriage to take us 
whithersoever we would, so that we saw more during the 
sweet month of May than we could otherwise have seen in 
a whole year. 

One of our most memorable excursions, memorable as 
well for the information we gained as for the pleasure we 
enjoyed, was through the Porta Pia and along the Via 
Nomentana. A mile beyond the wall stands the ancient 
church of Sanf Agnesia, founded by Constantine, and 
famous for the double row of marble pillars, one above the 
other, that supports the roof, and for the rich columns of 
porphyry and alabaster which adorn the altar and its taber- 
nacle. Near this edifice is the interesting church of Santa 
Constantia, the daughter of Constantine, formerly her 
mausoleum, and probably at an earlier period a temple of 
Bacchus. It is of circular form, supported by a row of 
coupled columns, and crowned with a spacious dome. 
Behind the pillars runs a gallery, whose vaulted roof is 
encrusted with antique mosaics, representing pretty little 
genii, playing with blushing clusters of grapes, amid the 
curling tendrils of the vine. The tomb of the fair saint was 
worthy of so splendid a place — a vast porphyry vase, orna- 



304 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

mented with various figures, now shown to visitors in the 
museum of the Vatican. 

Two miles farther we crossed the Anio on the Ponte 
Lamentano, the ancient Pons Nomentanus ; and just be- 
yond this, on the right, we saw the immortal Mons Sacer, 
twice dignified by the retreat and determinate but temperate 
resistance of an oppressed but generous people. It is a 
lonely eminence, of no great elevation, steep towards the 
river, in the form of a rampart, covered with luxuriant 
grass and brilliant flowers, but without human ornament or 
memorial, and looking to me very much as Bunker Hill did 
to a young lady from the city of New York — ' Nothing 
but a common country hill V Yet few places about Rome, 
none, perhaps, are more worthy of their distinction ; as few 
incidents, if any, in Roman history, are more honourable to 
the Roman people, than those which took place upon this 
same Mons Sacer, where they displayed in so remarkable a 
manner the three grand principles which constituted the 
grandeur of the Roman character — firmness, moderation, 
and magnanimity. 

Half an hour more brings us to the catacombs of Sunt* 
Alessandro, the most interesting of all these subterranean 
cemeteries of the early Christians, because very recently 
opened, since 1853, I believe, and its sacred deposits re- 
main as they were found. Sanf Alessandro was a Chris- 
tian bishop, beheaded in the reign of Hadrian ; and here 
lies his dust beneath an elegantly-wrought altar of marble, 
whence for eighteen centuries, with the whole ' noble army 
of martyrs,' his voice has been heard in heaven, saying, 
i How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge 
and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth !' 
Near it is an inscription to 'Amnianetti, a martyr, in peace/ 
Another record informed us that its subject was a stranger, 
arrested on his journey, led to the martyr's block, and laid 
here by his Roman brethren to await the resurrection of the 
just. Over one of these dark resting-places of the saints of 
Jesus, we read these touching words : ' Oh, unhappy times, 
when we cannot worship with safety even in caverns, nor 
enjoy the hope of being buried by our friends !' Furnished 
with wax candles, we walked an hour or more through the 
subterranean galleries, narrow, and crooked, and dismal ; 



LA CHIESA DEL GESTT. 305 

with three tiers of tombs on either side, some of them still 
unsealed, and others open to the inspection of visitors ; in 
which we saw the bones of the blessed, who passed ' through 
great tribulation into the kingdom of heaven,' with vials 
containing ' the seed of the church,' and often the instru- 
ments of martyrdom. But it is not safe to penetrate far 
into these gloomy labyrinths, some of which are very ex- 
tensive and only partially explored ; and there is a fact on 
record, a sad warning to subsequent adventurers, of the 
loss of a large party in those of Sant* Calistro. Retracing 
our steps into the light of day, we lingered long about the 
beautiful altar, and walked to and fro over the elegant 
mosaic pavement, and observed many finely- wrought co- 
lumns of precious marble, all of which belonged to a 
Christian church, built probably in the time of Constan- 
tino, and uncovered within the last three or four years. A 
few weeks before we left Rome, poor old Father Pius, with 
his cardinals, and a long train of gorgeously attired eccle- 
siastics, burning wax candles in the face of the sun, and 
chanting Latin invocations to the martyrs all the way, 
went out, in apostolic state, to lay the foundation-stone of a 
church and convent of the Trappists on the same ground, 
lest a place so holy should be desecrated by some profane 
or secular appropriation. 

Another day we took the Via Appia, as far as the tomb 
of Cecilia Metella, pausing to inspect the many objects^of 
interest by the way. "We drove along the Strada di 
Cerchi, between the ruined arches of the Imperial Palace 
and the site of the Circus Maximus, across the Aqua 
Maranna which comes down from the Vale of Egeria, 
through the Triumphal Arch of Drusus, the ancient Porta 
Cape?ia, and the present Porta San Sabastiano. We trod 
the soil once occupied by the splendid Mausolea of the 
Scipios, long since demolished; and descended into the 
Columbaria of ' Caesar's household,' and took from one of 
the sacred urns a handful of human ashes. Originally the 
Roman dead were buried ; but afterwards cremation was 
adopted as the common custom, though the great patrician 
families still adhered to the ancient method of interment. 
The bodies were wrapped in asbestos for burning ; this, 
being incombustible, preserved the ashes; which were 

x 



306 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

subsequently deposited in urns, and placed in these sepul- 
chral niches, hewn out of the solid rock, or prepared in 
walls and towers erected for the purpose. 

We passed also the spot where once stood the Temple of 
Mars, at which the victorious army always paused as they 
entered the city ; and a little farther on, we paused to look 
at the little church called ' Domine Quo Vadis ' — a 
strange name, with a stranger origin. The tradition is, 
that Peter was flying from Rome to escape persecution, 
when he here met his Master, and addressed to him the 
question — 'Domine, quo vadis V — Lord, whither goest 
thou ? The Master assured his cowardly disciple that he 
was going to Some to be crucified in his stead ; then 
vanishing, left the impress of his feet upon the pavement 
where he stood ; and there are still his tracks in the eternal 
stone, and I have seen them with these same spectacles ! 
Wonder not, O Christian reader, that Simon hastened back 
to the city, and desired to be crucified with his head down- 
wards ! 

We passed the Catacombs of San Calistro ; which, 
having no permit, we could not enter. Into those of 
San Sabastiano, however, we did descend, following 
a monk of most villainous physiognomy ; but saw no- 
thing, and wished ourselves above ground, and gladly 
embraced the first opportunity of return to the upper 
world. But here is the proudest memorial of republican 
Rome, the Mausoleum of Cecilia Metella, erected by the 
wealthy Crassus in honour of his wife, just before the 
Christian era. It is a magnificent circular tower, origi- 
nally encased with white marble, seventy feet in diameter, 
and of proportionate elevation. Within is a chamber, 
which formerly contained a richly sculptured sarcophagus ; 
but in the time of Paul the Third, this was removed to the 
Farnesian Palace, where it is still to be seen. The roof, 
which must have been conical, has given place to unsightly 
battlements, which Murray says were built in the thirteenth 
century, when the tomb was converted into a fortress ; but 
the Marquis de Bonaparte, who saw it in the early part 
of the sixteenth century, assures us that it was at that 
time as perfect as in the days of Crassus. Such, indeed, is 
the admirable solidity of this fine structure, that, as a late 



LA CHIESA DEL GESU. 307 

writer observes, ' it seems reared for eternity ;' and but 
for human hands, it had probably been entire at the present 
day, and remained unmarred for centuries to come. A 
famous antiquary — Boissard — attributed to this edifice ' a 
wonderful echo, which gave back seven or eight times, dis- 
tinctly and articulately, words spoken within a certain 
distance ; so that, at the funeral solemnities which Crassus 
celebrated in honour of his wife, the wailings of the 
mourners were infinitely multiplied ; as if the infernal gods, 
and all the souls that inhabit the shades below, had, in com- 
miseration of the fate of the deceased Cecilia, bewailed her 
from beneath the earth with continued lamentations, and 
testified their desire to blend their common grief on her 
account with the tears of the living !' 

And then we wandered where Numa walked at eventide, 
through the sacred Vale of Egeria^ and drank from her 
sacred fountain, and sat down in the cool shade of her 
sacred grove — at least, of its modern representative. And 
then we roamed over the Aventine, where Cacus lived, and 
Hercules triumphed, and the twin brother of Romulus had 
his unpropitious augury; where shone the glorious fane 
of Diana, built by the joint contributions and in the joint 
names of all the Latin tribes ; and the temples of Juno and 
Dea Bona ; with many other stately edifices, of which not 
a vestige remains — not a mouldering arch, nor a shattered 
wall, nor a broken pillar, to indicate their locality. And 
there, just within the Aurelian Wall, was Monte Testaccio 
— a hill two or three hundred feet high, and not less than a 
mile in circumference, composed entirely of broken pottery, 
in the sides of which are excavated the immense wine- 
cellars of modern Rome. And near it rose the pyramid 
of Caius Cestius, in humble imitation of those of the 
Pharaohs — a hundred feet in diameter, and a hundred and 
fifty in altitude — looking down upon the Protestant Ceme- 
tery, and appearing to preside over those fields of silence 
and mortality. And not more than a hundred paces from 
its base sleeps the poet Keats, beneath that sad inscription 
— 'Here lies one whose name was writ in water ;' and just 
under the wall, the genius and atheist Shelley, with a son 
of Goethe, and many English and American artists and 
tourists, who have lain down to their last sleep here in the 



308 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

land of strangers. It is a delightful place, laid out in 
handsome avenues, well shaded with cypress and the weep- 
ing willow, and environed on all sides with natural beauties 
and the most impressive remembrancers of long-departed 
generations. An artist sat upon a tombstone sketching 
the scene, so absorbed that he did not notice us as we 
passed ; and an English lady in black was wandering sadly 
about in quest of an inscription which might tell her 
where to drop a tear for one she had loved ; but, though 
we joined her in the search, it was in vain, and she left 
6 the mournful field ' without having found the resting-place 
of her buried friend. 

Hence to the church, on the Via Ostiensis, built on the 
very ground where Paul was beheaded, and over the three 
fountains that gushed up where his head struck as it 
bounded down the hill ; which three fountains are no 
fiction, Protestant reader, for I saw them myself and drank 
of their water ! Back to the city, and down into the 
Mamertine and Tullian Prisons ; where the same Paul 
was incarcerated, for there was the pillar to which he was 
bound ; and Peter also, for there was the impression of the 
apostle's head, where the jailer savagely thrust him against 
the rock ; and there was the spring of living water, which 
burst forth when the same savage jailer desired Christian 
baptism at the hands of the prisoner, and still keeps flow- 
ing — a perpetual miracle — for the conviction of sceptical 
forestieri 1 

Our last day in Rome was a Sabbath. The chaplain to 
the American Legation was gone, and the chapel at the 
Braschi Palace was closed for the season. So, while Jenny 
read Saint Paul and Bossuet at home, I went to La Chiesa 
del Gesu to hear a sermon from a Jesuit. The privilege 
of that morning I would not have missed for half of all the 
other entertainments I enjoyed during my European tour. 
The sublime fooleries of Holy Week at Saint Peter's — the 
pope in his jewelled vestments, tottering upon men's shoul- 
ders as they bore him in his lofty chair about the church, 
blessing his abject worshippers — the magnificent array of 
the cardinals in their crimson robes, and the long train of 
priests and monks, foreign princes and legates, and number- 
less officials of lower degree, with forests of palm-branches 






LA CHIESA DEL GESU. 309 

and tons of wax candles — the striped gorgeousness of the 
Swiss Guards with their plumes and pikes, and the bristling 
immensity of French bayonets, and the sound of a hundred 
brazen instruments, and the mighty roar of that unrivalled 
choir — these and all the rest were nothing in the comparison. 

The church is one of the largest and richest in Rome, for 
it is the principal church of the Jesuits, and connected with 
the convent which is the head-quarters of their order and 
the residence of their chief officer. With three American 
friends, I was at the door more than thirty minutes before 
the hour ; but it took us two-thirds of that time to effect 
an entrance, and find seats within hearing distance of the 
platform. There must have been six or eight thousand 
people in the assembly ; yet this, I am informed, was only 
an ordinary occasion. There is preaching here every 
Sabbath, and the immense edifice is always thronged. At 
length we were comfortably seated, and in a few moments the 
organ began — the very finest in Rome, and was played with 
admirable skill. Then came the soft tone of a single voice, 
sweet as an angel's. Another followed, and then another, 
and another ; and the song rose by degrees, swelling into 
a majestic chorus, which filled the spacious edifice. The 
music I thought much superior to that of Saint Peter's and 
the Sistine Chapel — better even than the performance of 
the far-famed Miserere. The harmony may have been 
less perfect — of that I am not a judge ; but finer voices 
certainly I have never heard, and richer strains seemed to 
me impossible this side of paradise. But when the whole 
great concourse joined the song, it was ' as the sound of 
many waters and mighty thunderings.' Alas, it was a 
hymn to the saints ! 

The music ceased, and a tall man, of middle age, but 
somewhat gray, in the dress of the order, ascended the 
platform, and took his seat. He announced his text sitting, 
then rose and commenced his discourse. Nothing could 
exceed the ease and fluency of his utterance, but the grace 
and energv of his action. Though I understood but little 
of what he said, it was the best lesson in elocution I ever 
received. He was not boxed up in a pulpit, but stood 
upon an open stage, with nothing to hinder the freedom of 
his movements, or obstruct the view of his hearers. He 



310 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

had no notes, and needed none ; the audience, the occasion, 
and the subject furnished sufficient inspiration. In five 
minutes all his powers seemed to be engaged, and for a full 
half hour he poured forth an incessant torrent of melodious 
words, with a force and fire such as I never saw except in 
some few of our American Methodist preachers, and with 
an ease and elegance of delivery which I never knew 
equalled by preacher of any order. From beginning to 
end, I believe, there was not a single sentence unaccompa- 
nied by a significant gesture, which evidently added greatly 
to the effect of his discourse, and which aided very much 
my shallow knowledge of Italian in comprehending his 
meaning. Of course, I understood but little of the sermon ; 
but I caught here and there a sentence— enough to enable 
me to make out that the immaculate conception of ' the 
mother of God,' and her claims upon the adoration of all 
Christians, were the main topics of discourse ; and that all 
who disbelieved the one, or disregarded the other, were 
vigorously denounced, and adjudged to the depths of 
hell. 

When he had been speaking for about twenty-five 
minutes with a beauty which I thought could not be sur- 
passed, he suddenly took fire and went off like a sky-rocket. 
I never heard such rapidity of utterance, connected with 
intonations and inflections so varied and melodious, and a 
manner altogether so inimitable. His fine person and noble 
countenance, his long black robe and flowing mantle, added 
to an action histrionic and striking to the last degree, 
would have formed an admirable study for an artist. The 
effect produced was very great, and the people wept 
around me as I have often seen them weep at a camp- 
meeting. 

The tempest over, the preacher took his seat, wiped the 
dew of agony from his brow, drew out a package of papers, 
read two or three of them to the audience, talked about 
passports from purgatory to paradise in connection with 
thirty scudi, and exhorted his hearers to charity towards the 
souls in limbo, while the collection-bags went round. 
There was evidently a large sum contributed towards that 
worthy object, for the bag which was shaken at me for 
some seconds, and which, I suppose, would hold a peck or 



LA CHIESA DEL GESU. 311 

more, appeared to be two-thirds full when it passed, and 
so heavy that the collector carried it with difficulty, and 
there were not less than six or eight of these bobbing about 
in different parts of the church. 

While this good work was going on, half a dozen men, 
with tapers attached to the end of long poles, were busy in 
lighting up the altar and the tribune. There was a perfect 
forest of wax candles, some of them very large, and the 
illumination grew and brightened every moment. Then 
the preacher rose again, and resumed his discourse with a 
fervour even greater than before. Nothing could transcend 
the elegant energy of his elocution. He extended his arms 
aloft, and called upon the Virgin and the martyrs. He 
folded them upon his heart, and bowed his head in the 
attitude of penitential shame. He smote his breast and his 
brow as if in agony. He wrapped his face in his mantle, 
and appeared to weep. He paced the platform with 
energy. He pointed now to the cross, now to the Madonna, 
and now to the lights which thicken about the altar. The 
moment the illumination was complete — and there were 
five hundred wax candles burning, for I counted them, and 
they were most artistically arranged — he turned towards the 
splendid spectacle, stretched forth his hands and cried — 
1 Ecco la ! ecco la !' Behold it ! behold it ! Suddenly the 
immense multitude arose and fell upon their knees, with 
their faces towards the altar, while the preacher continued 
his exhortation in a strain of increasing fervour, and tears 
flowed freely from many an eye, and suppressed sobs and 
groans were audible on every side. 

The preaeher paused, the organ began, the choir soon 
followed, and anon the audience took up the strain ; and 
for half an hour, choir and audience responded to each 
other, and it appeared to me the most delightful music I 
had ever heard. But the exquisite beauty of the perform- 
ance, and the enthusiastic heartiness with which the mul- 
titude participated, made me melancholy, when I reflected 
upon its connection with a system so dishonourable to God, 
so degrading to man, and so hostile to the spirit of true 
religion. 

A kind old lady near me, whose face was suffused with 



312 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

tears, besought me, for the love of the blessed Virgin, to 
kneel down. I was sorry, of course, to disoblige her, and 
at last she was evidently somewhat displeased with my ob- 
stinate resistance of her benevolent importunity. One of 
our party, an American lady, and a member of a Protes- 
tant Church at home, was so overcome by what she saw 
and heard, that she fell upon her knees with the rest, and 
continued in that position for fifteen minutes or more ; 
never thinking, as she afterwards told me, that she was 
worshipping any other than God himself. Mr. Mood and 
myself kept our seats, notwithstanding the fervid exhorta- 
tions of the preacher, and his denunciations of persistent 
Protestantism, seconded by the disinterested efforts of my 
old female friend. Verily, I wonder not that young ladies 
in America, who are sent to convents for their education, 
so seldom pass through the process without conversion : 
there is so much in the ceremonies and superstitions of the 
Roman Catholic Church that is so attractive to the youth- 
ful fancy, and so impressive to the youthful imagination. 
Nay, I wonder, rather, that any should escape such a con- 
summation.* 

I heard six Roman Catholic sermons in Rome — one in 
Saint Peter's, two in San Carlo's, and three in three other 
churches ; two of them in the Italian language, one in 
French, one in Russian, one in German, and one in 
English. The last mentioned was by Doctor Manning, a 
late pervert from the British Establishment, a man of supe- 
rior learning and abilities, but a very indifferent preacher. 
His manner was cold and feeble ; he recited his lesson like 
a schoolboy ; and never in my life did I hear a more mise- 
rable specimen of logic. The others — even he from the 
snows of Russia — displayed considerable warmth, and in 
some cases delivered themselves with an ardour worthy of 
a better cause ; and while listening to them, T could not 
help wishing that our Protestant preachers oftener carried 
with them in their work something of the same genial en- 
thusiasm. Even in America, and among the ministers of 
our own Church — the most earnest I believe in the world 

* This remark applies to those only who have never learned to 
appreciate the inner beauty of the true Church. — Ed. 



LA CHIESA DEL GESU. 313 

— the manner of the pulpit is generally too tame and cold, 
and some there are whose delivery is formal and frigid to 
the last degree of endurance. We should certainly speak 
more earnestly, if we felt as we ought the weight of our 
message and the responsibility of our vocation. The 
Papists preach falsehood as if they believed it to be truth, 
arid were anxious to impress it as such upon their auditors ; 
we too often proclaim the everlasting verities of Heaven 
as if we had no faith in them ourselves, and cared but 
little what effect they produced upon others. It is true, 
other Roman Catholic performances are generally suffi- 
ciently dull and monotonous; but the preaching, espe- 
cially that of the monks and Jesuits, is in many instances 
fraught with a refreshing fervour and a most impressive 
energy. 

Suspended over the altar in this church is the largest 
known piece of lapis-lazuli in the world. But as we de- 
parted, I saw without something far more interesting than 
this. Pasted upon the wall, and reaching to a considerable 
height on each side of the door, were great numbers of 
printed papers, each about a foot square, with the repre- 
sentation of a skeleton in the centre. I had often seen 
these before, and supposed them to relate to the burial of 
the dead ; but upon examination, I now found that they 
were certificates of the release of souls from purgatory by 
masses said and paid for in this church. This helped to 
explain what I had just heard about the passports and thirty 
scudi. 

In the piazza fronting this church there is generally a 
strong breeze, which the Romans account for in a manner 
most complimentary to the Jesuits. They say that the 
wind was one day walking with the devil : when they came 
to this place the latter said to his companion, ' I have 
something to do in here — wait for me a moment.' The devil 
entered, but never came out ; and the wind still waits for 
him in the square. 

At length we must bid adieu to Rome. We have re- 
mained already much longer than we intended. Four 
months have been well occupied, but I cannot say that I 
have yet seen Rome. Four years, indeed, were not suffi- 



314 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

cient for the purpose. Rome is inexhaustible. Hope of 
returning 1 , I have none ; yet many of the most interesting 
objects and localities must remain un visited, and others but 
partially explored and imperfectly understood. As it is, 
however, I depart deeply impressed with what I have be- 
held of the Historic City — the remains of her ancient 
grandeur, the magnificence of her modern architecture, the 
wealth of her museums and galleries of art, the unrivalled 
beauty of her suburban villas and classical environs ; but 
impressed still more with her weakness, her blindness, her 
imbecile policy, her sorceries and superstitions, her beggared 
populace and fast-declining power — constituting at once a 
manifest fulfilment of prophecy, and a tremendous prophecy 
yet to be fulfilled ! 

She is still ' Majestic Rome,' but her crown is in the 
dust, and the prestige of her victory is gone. The once 
proud ' Mistress of the World ' sits, a lone widow, in dotage 
and decrepitude, amid the ruins of her palace, asking alms 
of all who pass her gates. Her bishop is a recognized sove- 
reign, but his prerogatives cannot be hereditary ; and foreign 
bayonets guard his person, and prop his tottering throne. 
Claiming the right to rule the world, he can scarcely keep 
in subjection the few leagues of territory called the Papal 
States, and he sits trembling within the walls of the Vati- 
can, and under the very shadow of Sant' Angelo. The 
pretended head of the Church, and vicar of Jesus Christ, 
having the keys of the kingdom of heaven, he is not master 
of his own official acts, and is really less free than his own 
footman. The cardinals are princes, and generally they 
are men of learning and ability; but their talents are 
degraded to the most miserable time-serving devices, and 
all loftier aims are lost in the low craft of avarice and un- 
worthy ambition. Rome claims to be 'the holiest of 
cities,' and ' the capital of the Christian world ;' but there 
is no city of Europe that has less of vital godliness, or even 
of true morality. Her modern churches rival her an- 
cient temples ; they are dedicated chiefly to saints and 
martyrs ; and painted canvas, and chiselled marble, and 
manufactured relics, are worshipped in them more than the 
living God ; and the idolatry of which they are the daily 



LA CHIESA DEL GESU. 315 

scenes is not less gross than that which was practised in 
pagan Rome. Five thousand priests and friars walk her 
streets ; but scarcely one in a hundred of her people has 
any respect for their profession, or any confidence in their 
virtue. The mansions of her nobles are fit residences for 
monarchs ; but their spacious apartments are peopled 
only with statues and pictures, and their masters live 
retired upon the pitiful revenue which they receive from 
strangers who come to visit their galleries. She has 
but one railroad, and that is only fourteen miles in 
length ; but one newspaper, and that is little more than 
a weekly announcement of the arrival and departure of 
foreigners. 

' How is the mighty fallen !' She that sat enthroned 
over the world, and regarded the earth as only a highway 
for her legions— she that trod upon the necks of kings, 
while nations fell prostrate in the dust before her — has 
become a beggar at the gates of foreign princes, and 
survives by swindling and plundering such as come to 
muse amid the wrecks of her former greatness. Her eccle- 
siastical thunders are unheeded, her political resources are 
exhausted, her exchequer is empty, and her prisons are 
full. Her streets swarm with mendicants, and murmur 
night and day with popular discontent ; though there are 
three thousand spies, in the pay of the government, going 
constantly about the city, unknown to the people, and 
generally even to one another ; and there is one or more 
of them at this hour in every coffee-house, and in every 
place of trade or of public resort. 

Yet Rome is a city of strange and wondrous interest. 
It grows upon you in proportion as it is explored, and the 
longer you remain, the more reluctant you are to leave. 
I have groped among the mouldering substructions of her 
temples and theatres, and looked down from many a height 
upon the fading memorials of her ancient opulence and 
power. I have wandered at sunset along the banks of the 
Albula, and reclined at noonday in the bowers of suburban 
villas, communing with the spirit of the past, and imbibing 
full draughts of beauty through every sense. After all, 
the landscape scenery of Italy is to me its greatest charm ; 



316 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN" EUROPE. 

and the sylvan environs of the Historic City never cloy, 
like the works of art* with which her churches and saloons 
are crowded ; for nature is always fresh, and her aspects 
are ever varying, and even the same view often presents 
new beauties to the eye; and where every spot has a 
classical renown, and every object speaks of the greatest 
empire that ever rose and ruled and fell, there is a perpe- 
tual feast of solemn thought, with perennial springs of 
wisdom ! 

* One never wearies of looking at works of art of the highest 
order. — Ed. 






( 317 ) 



CHAPTER XXX. 

FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 

Last View of St. Peter's — Monte Soracte — Civita Castellana — 
Camillus and the Schoolmaster — The Umbrian Hills — Ocricoli 
— Narni — Terni and its Falls — Short Method with Beggars — 
Spoletto — The Clitnmnns — Foligno — Spello — Santa Maria 
degli Angeli — Assisi — Saint Francis and his Order — Grotta 
Dei Volumni — The Etruscans — Perugia — Battle of Thrasyme- 
nus — The Papal Frontier — Brigands. 

Now bind the sandals on the pilgrim's feet, 
And bring his staff ; for lo ! the meek-eyed morn 
Smiles o'er the Sabine Hills with sweetest grace i 
To thee, old Rome, the tribute of a tear ; 
For never more the pilgrim shall behold 
Thy venerable ruins, ivy-clad, 
And eloquent of human impotence ; 
The yellow Tiber, and the Pantheon ; 
The Forum, and the Coliseum gray ; 
Temples, and towers, and that majestic dome ! 

From Rome to Florence, by way of Perugia — a journey 
of two hundred miles through the most charming region of 
Italy — was a week of unmingled pleasure. Through the 
kindness of our friend, Mr. Bartholomew, it had been ar- 
ranged for us to travel by vettura — with one of the best 
American families it was our good fortune to meet with in 
Europe — Mr. John Olmsted, of Hartford, his pious, 
amiable, and accomplished wife and daughter, and their 
courier Dominico — an intelligent and good-natured Italian, 
who thought himself a Christian, the pope a humbug, and 
confession a bore. Accordingly, on a fine Monday morn- 
ing, in the end of May, we bade adieu to many who had 
endeared themselves to us by their obliging offices, and 
drove forth through the Porto del Popolo, over the Ponte 
Molle, along the Yia Plaminia, with the flowery Campagna 
on the one side and the classic Tiber on the other, towards 
the pyramidal Soracte and the Umbrian Hills, Whenever 
we gained some little eminence, and turned to look back 
upon objects we shall never behold again, the magnificent 
proportions of St. Peter's — the first and the last that the 
stranger sees of Rome — stood in bold relief against the 
beautiful sky. Again and again, as we passed over the 



318 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

hills, we paused, and gazed, and lingered, and breathed 
what we deemed a last adieu ; but as often as we ascended 
another elevation, and turned to look once more, there it 
was still — the most majestic thing in Europe — swelling 
proudly up into the tranquil azure ; and long after every 
other dome had disappeared in the distance, like Orpah 
behind Naomi, this seemed to follow us like the fond and 
faithful Ruth. We had now travelled five or six hours, 
when our road mounjted a lofty ridge, beyond which 
it descended for a great distance ; and knowing that this 
would certainly be the last view, I left the vettura, and 
ran up into the field, where from the top of the rock it was 
still visible — the only object discernible upon the horizon ; 
and I could have wept, as I slowly descended the hill, and 
St. Peter's sank out of my sight for ever. 

As in passing the conscious meridian of life, we naturally 
turn from the past to the contemplation of the future, so 
we now ceased to look back upon what we had left behind, 
for another object before us attracted our attention, grow- 
ing every moment in magnitude and in interest. From the 
dome of St, Peter's, from the tower of the Capitol, from 
the green bowers of the Janiculum, from the breezy 
heights of Albano, and from many an eminence overlooking 
the golden Tiber, for the last four months I had admired 
the form of Monte Soracte, rising in lone grandeur from 
the undulating plain, a pyramid of rock in the centre of a 
mountain amphitheatre ; but now, as we drew near, its 
bold outline became more sharply defined, its deep hue of 
amethyst changed into emerald and jasper, and with every 
mile of our approach it assumed new majesty and beauty. 
Its isolated situation, its ever-changing form, its densely 
wooded base, its bare and rugged sides, the picturesque 
town upon its southern flank, the three convents which 
crown its very apex, and the melodious verse of Virgil, 
of Horace, and of Byron, invested it with a peculiar charm, 
and I found it difficult to turn my eyes in any other direction. 
The town alluded to is St. Oreste, occupying the place of 
the ancient Feronia ; and the principal convent is that of 
San Sylvestro, founded in the eighth century, where once 
stood the temple of Apollo, and where now pause the 
weary feet of many a foolish pilgrim. 

Our first night's lodging we found at Civita Castellana. 



FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 319 

We were quartered here, as generally in Italy, in the same 
house with the horses ; they occupying the front rooms of 
the lower story, and we the back rooms of the upper. The 
apartments, however, were clean, the beds quite comfort- 
able, and the table tolerably well supplied with wholesome 
food. Having an hour or two before sunset, we refreshed 
ourselves a little, and went forth to see the town. A few 
steps from our hotel we encountered a prison, from whose 
grated windows long poles were thrust out as we passed, 
with little bags attached to the ends of them, accompanied 
with imploring cries from within for medzi baiocchi — the 
only method which the inmates have of begging, and, I 
am informed, also in many instances their only means of 
living. We wandered about the streets, through the 
cathedral, around the castle, over the bridges, along the 
ravines, and everywhere met with objects of gratifying in- 
terest. The surrounding country is exceedingly beautiful ; 
and Monte Soracte looked more glorious than ever in the 
light of the setting sun, while the sweet villages beyond 
seemed so many cameos cut out of the mountain-side. 

Civita Castellana, occupying the site of the ancient 
Falerium — one of the twelve cities of the Etruscan League 
— is built upon a table-land, perfectly surrounded by a deep 
and precipitous gulf. The massive masonry of the old 
walls is still seen in many places on the verge of the cliff, 
and the rocks below are pierced with numerous tombs and 
emissaries. A curious story is told in connection with the 
siege of the city by Camillus : a schoolmaster, having in 
charge a large number of the sons of the Falerian nobility, 
under the pretence of taking them out for an evening walk, 
led them directly to the Roman camp, and betrayed 
them into the hands of the enemy, thinking to be 
handsomely rewarded for his perfidy ; but the deed so in- 
censed the generous commander that he ordered the boys 
to scourge their master back into the city ; and his magna- 
nimity so delighted the citizens that they surrendered at 
once to the Romans. 

In the morning, poor Dominico, who had lodged in the 
lower story, appeared to wait on the breakfast-table, looking 
sad and sleepy, with one eye badly swollen. He had evi- 
dently been rudely treated by his bedfellows, with which he 



320 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

said lie had waged a most bloody night-long battle; but 
after slaughtering some scores of them, had been fairly 
driven from the field before the dawn of day. Resuming 
our journey, not without much sympathy for the unfortu- 
nate Dominico, we crossed the gulf on a noble bridge, a 
hundred and twenty feet high ; and after an hour's drive 
through a very beautiful country, recrossed the Tiber on 
the Ponte Felici, originally built by the Emperor Augustus, 
and leaving Etruria behind, began to ascend the wooded 
hills of Umbria. On the side of the river towards Rome, 
occupying the summit of a little hill, stood the dismantled 
fortress of Borghetto — one of the most picturesque of 
mediaeval ruins ; and on the opposite side lay the field of 
Macdonald's brilliant achievement in 1798, who, with an 
army not more than one-third that of the enemy, cut 
his way through the Neapolitan ranks, and forced the 
passage of the Tiber. On the height a little beyond, we 
found the mean little village of Otricoli — the modern re- 
presentative of the renowned Ocriculum — the first of the 
Umbrian cities that voluntarily submitted to the Romans. 
The view, as we ascended the mountain, was extremely 
fine — Soracte rising into the clouds behind us, the Tiber 
winding through the valley beneath us, the Nera rushing 
along the bottom of a dark ravine on our left, the Apen- 
nines towering to a sublime altitude on our right, and the 
hills before us covered to their summits with terraced vine- 
vards and luxuriant fields of wheat. Next came Narni — 
the ancient Umbrian Narnia — with its castle and its con- 
vents, commanding a valley of great extent and fertility ; 
and in the ravine below, the bridge of Augustus, built of 
massive blocks of uncemented marble, and once traversed 
by the great Flaminian Way, still spanning the stream 
with its gigantic arches — one of the noblest relics of im- 
perial times. 

And now it is noon, and we are at Terni — the ancient 
Interamni — the reputed birthplace of a great Roman histo- 
rian, and of two Roman emperors. The chief attraction 
here is the falls of the Velino, five miles from the town. 
Having dined, we procure a carriage, and go forth to see 
one of the greatest sights in Italy. Our road is all the way 
up hiil, and for some distance it is excavated in the face of 






FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 321 

the precipice, actually overhung by the solid mass of the 
mountain, while the torrent frets and foams through a gorge 
at a frightful depth below. But here is the terminus, and 
we are obliged to alight because we can go no farther. 
Suddenly we are surrounded by a host of donkeys and drivers, 
with twice as many guides and assistants, and beggars as 
thick as Italian fleas. Some we patronize, and some we 
pay to hold their peace. But for every one thus silenced 
or dismissed, two new-comers set up their clamorous appeal ; 
insisting with marvellous pertinacity on assisting our pere- 
grinations, or relieving our purses. Nowhere else, even in 
Italy, have we been so formidably besieged. It is with the 
utmost difficulty, though aided by a good cicerone, that we 
succeed in forcing our way through the babbling throng to 
the head of the cascade. Here we are astonished, delighted, 
and plentifully besprinkled with spray. Then we descend, 
and enjoy a much finer view from below, and a more copious 
shower-bath withal. Still descending, and crossing the tor- 
rent upon a narrow footbridge, we gain the opposite side of 
the dell, where we have a complete panorama of the several 
cascades, and the rapids below. No words can describe the 
magnificence of the scene. The river precipitates itself at 
a single leap, it is said five or six hundred feet — and perhaps 
it is no exaggeration — over a precipice. The entire fall 
has been variously estimated at from nine to twelve hun- 
dred feet. There is nothing else like this in Italy. Even 
Niagara, though much grander on account of the immense 
body of water, falls only a hundred amd sixty-four feet. 

But on this subject I must observe an exemplary brevity 
and sobriety, for be thou well assured, most gracious reader, 
that my more enthusiastic fellow-traveller and fellow-writer, 
when she comes to do up her notes of Terni, as usual after 
having seen a little water running over a rock, will treat 
thee to a prolix and very edifying rhapsody. 

Returning, we passed through the beautiful grounds of 
the Villa Grazziana, where Queen Caroline once resided in 
her grass-widowhood, where she entertained Sir Walter 
Scott, and capsized the tub in the cellar, and who knows 
what else ? The place looks rather lonely now, though the 
air is perfumed with orange-blossoms, and 'the vine with 
the tender grape giveth a good smell,' and the brave old 

Y 



322 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

ilex-trees along the avenue seem formed to shade the head, 
of royal beauty. 

This little side excursion cost us three pauls apiece for 
the carriage, three for each mule, five to the postillion, six 
to the cicerone, seven to the several custodies, eight to the 
swindling government, all our half-pauls to the assistants, 
all our medzi baiocchi to the beggars, and a good share of 
our patience besides ; yet the expense and the annoyance 
were more than compensated by the pleasure which they 
procured us. 

At our hotel we found a blind fiddler, by no means a 
bad performer, whom we patronized in the evening to the 
extent of five pauls, and who, in consideration of the same, 
gave us five good pieces on his Cremona. 

A night's rest and an early breakfast, backed by an enor- 
mous bill, and we are off through the sweet vale of Terni, 
and over the romantic pass of Monte Somma. The govern- 
ment tariff requires that we shall add to our four horses a 
yoke of oxen to draw us up the mountain ; and so we go 
creeping up the ravine and along the precipice ; and have 
all «the better opportunity to see and survey at leisure the 
fine scenery around us. Five or six miles, and we pass 
Casa del Papa, the villa and summer residence of Leo the 
Twelfth (now an indifferent albergo) on the side of a 
dreary hill. It was here, by a happy experiment, I learned 
how to rid oneself of the annoying importunity of the 
Italian beggars. This pass swarms with them — generally 
children, and chiefly little girls — not one in fifty of whom 
seems to be really in need of charity. Good Mrs. Olmsted 
never suffered one that looked sick, or poor, or hungry, to 
ask in vain, so long as there was aught left in the bag. 
Unfortunately, however, the more we gave, the more they 
begged ; and as our supplies diminished, the applicants 
multiplied ; and all our small change was gone, and also our 
bread and cheese, before the twentieth part of them were 
satisfied. I resolved to turn beggar myself, and to the first 
that approached I promptly presented my hat before she 
had an opportunity to begin, saying, in as piteous a tone as 
I could : ' Date mi qualche cosa, Caria Signorina mia — 
medzo baioccho mi contento? This measure was singularly 
effectual ; and I beg leave respectfully to recommend it to 



FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 323 

all my friends who may hereafter travel in Italy, under the 
title of ' A Short Method with Beggars.' 

On the other side of the mountain we found Spoleto — 
the ancient Spoletium — overlooking the valley of the Cli- 
tumnus, and an extensive tract of the most delightful coun- 
try in the world. The citadel, built by Theodoric during 
the Gothic wars, frequently altered and enlarged, is now 
used as a prison. The Porta d'Annibale, probably a Roman 
structure, bears witness to the resistance which the Cartha- 
ginian here met with in his march through Umbria, after 
the battle of Thrasymenus, proving the fidelity of the city 
to the Roman cause, and its strength, to have braved the 
conqueror, and arrested his progress in the very flush of 
victory. Over a ravine which separates the city from Monte 
Luco is a tier of arches, two hundred and sixty-six feet 
high, serving both as an aqueduct and a bridge, attributed 
to the Romans, but probably the work of the Lombard dukes 
of Spoleto. Monte Luco is remarkable for its monastery, 
its numerous hermitages, and its sacredly- guarded grove of 
majestic oaks. The town contains a highly-decorated cathe- 
dral, with some remains of an ancient theatre/ and of three 
pagan temples. In the middle ages it was an important 
place, and long maintained its independence ; but was at 
length conquered by Frederic Barbarossa, by whom it was 
pillaged and burned. 

One of the chronicles of Spoleto relating to the civil 
wars of the Guelphs and the Ghibbelines, contains the fol- 
lowing horrible picture of political fanaticism carried to the 
extreme verge of ferocity: When the Ghibbelines were 
burning the houses of their adversaries, a woman, who had 
married a Guelph, and had two sons, seeing her own brother 
about to fire her dwelling, ascended to the top of the tower 
with her children, and thence implored his compassion. 
He promised her salvation only on condition that she would 
throw the two embryo Guelphs down into the flames ; but 
the mother's love was stronger than the fear of death, and 
she perished with her sons. 

From Spoleto we descended into the valley of the Cli- 
tumnus, called by Bonaparte ' the garden of Italy.' For 
forty miles or more, the country is one continuous vineyard ; 
and the earth was covered with a luxuriant growth of wheat, 



324 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

fast ripening for the harvest. The white and dove-coloured 
cattle which abound here are the noblest animals I ever 
beheld — descendants of those from among which the sacred 
victims were chosen in the days of classic song. The 
Clitumnus, celebrated by Virgil and by Byron, bursts a 
full-grown river, limpid as May-dew, from the base of the 
mountain. Near its source is the temple of the river-god — 
a small building, of fine proportions — perhaps the very one 
mentioned by the younger Pliny. 

Our third night was spent at Foligno, famous for wax 
candles. At the gate by which we entered still stood the 
triumphal arch and colonnade, composed of palm-branches 
and flowers, constructed in honour of the pope on his late 
visit to the city. It is said that the Holy Father intended 
to take Perugia in his tour, and a similar structure was 
erected there ; but during the night preceding his expected 
arrival it was completely demolished and burned ; where- 
upon he turned aside at Foligno, and took the road to 
Loretto. It is reported also that his pockets were full of 
pardons for the political prisoners at Perugia, but after such 
treatment he refused to dispense any of them, though the 
offenders had remained eight years incarcerated without 
trial. The ostensible object of his tour was a religious pil- 
grimage ; but it is since rumoured that he was advised to 
it by France and Austria, in view of certain indications of 
popular discontent rife throughout this portion of his do- 
minions ; which rumour has been alarmingly corroborated 
by recent developments. 

In the public square, near the centre of the town, we saw 
a fine Corinthian pillar, sixty feet high, composed entirely 
of white wax ; the shaft consisting of enormous candles, the 
capital elaborately wrought with flowers, a colossal statue 
of ' Our Lady' at the top, and four life-size figures at the 
base. It was recently erected, ostensibly in honour of the 
Immaculate Conception, but really in compliment to His 
Holiness, who it was hoped would show some mercy to the 
poor sufferers in the Foligno dungeons. I trembled for the 
beautiful ornament, as I saw a horse, running away with a 
carriage, dash furiously through the piazza ; but it was not 
touched, though the fragments of the shattered vehicle were 
strewn plentifully around it. 



FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 325 

Afterwards, walking- alone in the street, I saw a Jew sell- 
ing a piece of cloth to an Italian, when a third person, in 
apparent playfulness, threw the end of the article over the 
merchant's face ; and the latter instantly drew a knife, and 
rushed upon him, and he must inevitably have been stabbed, 
had he not dexterously sprung out of his way, and made 
good use of his sole-leather. 

In 1 831 and 1832, and again in 1839, Foligno experienced 
several earthquakes, which did much damage, destroying 
many buildings, and about a hundred human lives. It is 
somewhat remarkable that a city located upon an alluvial 
plain should have suffered so severely from these phenomena, 
while the towns which occupy the lower slopes of the neigh- 
bouring mountains received little or no injury. 

Three miles from Foligno is Spello, full of Roman anti- 
quities, and the fame of Orlando. In the wall, near an 
ancient gate, is a momumental inscription, celebrating the 
exploits of that worthy personage. Orlando is the Italian 
Hercules of the middle ages. They have multiplied the 
legends of his labours, as the Greeks did those of the 
ancient hero ; and Ariosto only brilliantly embodied those 
different traditions handed down in songs and tales for 
more than six hundred years. 

We paused an hour by the way to take a view of the fine 
church of Santa Maria degli AngelL It was here that 
Saint Francis founded his monastic order ; and in the 
centre of the spacious edifice is a small house, built of 
rough stone, in which they say he lived and practised the 
severe rules which he laid down for the fraternity. It is 
now occupied as a chapel ; and while we were there, 
several monks were performing some religious service in it. 
On its front is a remarkable fresco by Over beck, regarded 
as the chef-d'oeuvre of that popular artist, representing the 
vision or ecstacy of the saint. 

On a hill, two miles from the church, stands Assisi, the 
ancient Assisium, where Saint Francis was born, where 
his dust is now enshrined in an elegant mausoleum ; and a 
whole museum of his relics is sacredly preserved in the 
monastery of St. Clare. The convent, which stands upon 
a lofty rock, and with its massive walls and towers looks 
like an immense fortress, is said to have been built in the 



326 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

incredibly short space of two years. Assisi is the native 
town also of two elegant Italian poets — Propertius and 
Metastasio. Its antiquities are a Roman theatre, a temple 
of Minerva, and numerous fragmentary substructions and 
walls. 

Saint Francis lived in a time when Italian society was 
exceedingly corrupt, and the spirit of true Christianity was 
almost unknown among the religious orders. He was but 
twenty-five when he set himself resolutely to stem the tide 
of the prevalent depravity. His family regarded him as 
mad ; and the cell is still shown at Assisi where he is said 
to have been confined by his father, and afterwards merci- 
fully liberal ed by his mother. The result shows him to 
have been a man of earnest and mighty spirit. There was 
something very impressive in the austerity of his life and 
the profusion of his alms. Men of distinction, and ladies of 
fashion, soon flocked to his standard. Young enthusiasts, 
and rich and beautiful maidens, adopted his principles and 
espoused his cause. The lower classes found, in the order 
which he instituted, a sort of emancipation and security ; 
and were glad to escape serfdom by becoming monks. Thus 
the fraternity grew and flourished ; and now, after the 
lapse of more than six hundred years, constitutes a rich 
and powerful body in the Roman Catholic Church. But 
such is the influence of human depraviry, that everything 
good on earth naturally tends to degeneration ; and it is 
not wonderful that such a community, with errors so many 
and so great incorporated in its very constitution, though 
originating in love to God and man, should soon change 
for the worse in manners and moral discipline. The cor- 
ruption of the Franciscans is represented by Italian writers 
of the sixteenth century as a matter of common notoriety, 
Machiavelli, Castiglione, and Ariosto accuse them of the 
greatest cruelty and the most enormous crimes ; and 
Dante and Tasso, while they laud their leader to the skies, 
satirize severely the vices of his followers. 

A few miles farther on we crossed the Tiber, for the 
third time during our journey, and probably the last for 
ever. We were now once more in Etruria, and soon came 
to the most remarkable Etruscan sepulchre hitherto dis- 
covered — the Grotta dei Volumni. By a long flight of 



FROM ROME TO FLORENCE. 327 

steps, cut in the soft tufa, we descended to the door. The 
original — a block of travertine, six feet high, four feet 
broad, and eight inches thick — stands leaning against the 
wall of the passage, while its place is supplied with an iron 
one of modern construction. Our cicerone lighted a taper, 
and led us into the solemn chambers of the dead. There is 
one large apartment, twenty-four feet by twelve in area, 
and sixteen in height, around which are nine others of 
smaller size, all hewn out of the living rock. The roof is 
cut into the form of beams and rafters; and heads of 
Medusa, with serpents and other curious devices, are carved 
upon the walls. There are several pendant lamps, and a 
mock genius swinging from the roof by a thread of bronze. 
The cinerary urns, or vessels containing the ashes of the 
dead, are all in one room. There are seven of these, all 
of elaborate workmanship — six of travertine, and one of 
marble. The latter is in the form of a temple, and has an 
inscription in Latin upon its front, and in Etruscan across 
the roof; which, when discovered, furnished the key to the 
language of ancient Etruria. These things were placed 
here, precisely as we now find them, two thousand years 
ago ; but the more valuable articles — ornaments of bronze, 
and jewels of massive gold — were removed long ago to the 
neighbouring villa. There are scores of other tombs in 
the neighbourhood of this, much in the same condition ; 
and many hundreds, probably, which have never yet been 
opened, all belonging to the necropolis of an ancient and 
powerful city. 

Think not lightly of the race that excavated these dark 
sepulchral chambers. Their national glory culminated long 
before Rome was founded. From them the Mistress of the 
World took lessons in painting and in architecture. One of 
their kings — Porsenna — humbled her upon her seven hills. 
The substructions of their citadels and temples which she 
destroyed have outlasted many of her own, erected a 
thousand years later. Thrust your hand in where that 
ponderous stone lid has been lifted, and you shall touch 
the ashes of departed chiefs and rulers. This Etruria had 
twelve kingdoms, with twelve capital cities, and twelve 
mighty kings ; and every capital had its subordinate muni- 
cipalities, with its senate and its army. But what nation 



328 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

could endure that worshipped idols, and consulted the. 
oracles of devils ? Egypt and Assyria had done so, and 
they had perished. So perished Etruria; and nothing re- 
mains of her now but these tombs, and the massive frag- 
ments of her masonry, scattered over the Italian hills. 

On an eminence, a thousand feet above, stands Perugia, 
the representative of the ancient Parousia. The buildings 
rise tier above tier, like a gigantic stairway in the rock ; 
and a stout yoke of white oxen is again added to our four 
horses to draw us up to the city gate. We spent four 
pleasant hours in looking about, but as many days were 
scarcely enough for all the interesting objects here to be 
seen. There are more than a hundred churches, and 
thirty monastic and conventual institutions. The cathedral 
is a grand old Gothic structure, with gorgeous stained 
windows, containing two famous works of art — Perugino's 
Madonna, and Baroccio's Deposition from the Cross. The 
frescoes of the Exchange, and the heraldic decorations of 
the Municipal Palace, are objects of curious interest. 
The most remarkable thing, however, is the old Etruscan 
gate, with its massive tiers of uncemented travertine, 
forty or fifty feet high, standing as it stood twenty 
centuries a^o, left unscathed by the conflagration which in 
the reign of Augustus destroyed the city. In the four- 
teenth century a hundred thousand people perished here by 
the plague. The present population is not more than 
fifteen thousand. But the place is rich in architecture, 
and in works of the belli arti ; and its university, next to 
those of Rom*-* and Bologna, is deemed the best in the 
Papal States. The view which we enjoyed from the site 
of the fallen citadel no language can describe — the valleys 
of the Tiber and the Clitumnus spreading out in living 
emerald before us, the mountains on either hand studded 
with shining towns and villages, and the snowy masses of 
the Abruzzi gleaming from afar like an immense city of 
amethvst and opal ! 

We spent our fourth night at a miserable little town on 
the margin of Lake Thrasy menus, a memorable place in 
the annals of Roman warfare. The next morning we pur- 
sued our way over the field where Hannibal won his great 
victory over the Consul Flaminius. It is a level area of 



FROM EOME TO FLORENCE. 329 

several miles, lying along the shore, and shut in by a semi- 
circular range of precipitous hills in the rear, the extremi- 
ties of which form two bold promontories at the edge of 
the lake. From the moment the Roman legions entered 
the pass, the wily Carthaginian had the game fairly in his 
own hand. How the consul was ever beguiled into 
such a snare is the marvel. Whoever will but look over 
the ground will be ready to vote him a madman. The 
Sanguinetta, which rolls through the plain, perpetuates in 
its name the memory of the disaster; the 'Tower of 
Hannibal ' still looks down triumphant from its eminence 
upon the field of slaughter ; and blood-red poppies, 
blooming amid the luxuriant wheat, have sprung up from 
the graves of the slain. 

We now crossed the papal frontier, and left behind us 
much that is undesirable. Henceforward we saw a more 
thriving and cheerful population, and heard less of Iofammi, 
and Date mi qualche cosa. But the beauty and fertility of 
the country through which we now journeyed it is quite 
impossible to describe — the delightful alternation of hill 
and vale, towering mountains and far-spreading vineyards, 
the infinite profusion of wild flowers which loaded the air 
with fragrance, with fields of grain such as I never saw 
before, and scarcely expect ever to see again, all bathed in 
the delicious gold and purple of an Italian atmosphere ! 

Passing Cortona — a city anterior, it is said, to Troy — 
we glided along the sweet-blossoming vale of the Chiana, 
and soon reached Arezzo, the birthplace of illustrious men, 
where we beheld the house of Petrarch, a statue of the 
Grand Duke Ferdinand the First, and the tomb of the 
famous fighting Bishop of Petramala. In a wild mountain 
pass a little farther on, \*e saw by the wayside a huge 
black cross, marking the spot where, not long ago, the 
diligence had been stopped by banditti, and the driver and 
passengers literally cut to pieces. That night we lodged 
at Le Vane, and the next day about noon looked down 
from the hills upon the fair capital of the middle ages, re- 
posing in a paradise of verdure upon the banks of the 
meandering Arno. 



( 330 ) 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE CITY OF FLOWERS. 

The Beauty of Florence — Comparison with Home — Cathedral and 
Campanile — Other Interesting Objects and Localities — Poetry — 
Hiram Power — Fine Arts — Kape of the Sabines — Uffizi Gallery — 
Michael Angelo — Pitti Palace — The Flying Ass — Agricultural 
Fail' — Blasphemy of Art. 

The vines, the flowers, the air, the skies, that fling 

Such wild enchantment o'er Boccaccio's tales 

Of Florence and the Arno. Halleck. 

What a beautiful city ! What a beautiful country sur- 
rounds it ! How different from Rome ! so bright and 
cheerful, so clean and comfortable, and comparatively 
free from beggars. The Arno reminds one of the Tiber — 
albeit not so deep, nor so wide, nor so strong, nor so rapid, 
nor so golden, nor so rich in heroic fame. Yet it is a 
pretty river, bordered on both sides by fine buildings, and 
spanned by three stone bridges, two of which are elegant, 
and the other picturesque, with a good suspension-bridge 
at each extremity of the town. Florence is rather neatly 
built, and has some very massive and imposing structures, 
of which the lower stories, after the Etruscan style, are 
anomalous in modern architecture. Rome has more 
palaces, but none equal to the Pitti ; and more campaniles, 
but none so gorgeous as Giotto's marble tower, or so grace- 
ful as the octagonal steeple of the Badia, or so lofty as the 
machicolated belfry of the Palazzo Vecchio. If, from the 
top of the Capitol, or the dome of St. Peter's, you look 
down upon the environs of Rome, three miles beyond the 
walls, you see nothing but a dreary waste sown with the 
ruins of antiquity ; but the picturesque hills which sur- 
round Firenza la bella are covered with villas, mansions, 
churches, and convents, embowered in living bloom ; and 
in every direction, as far as the sight can reach, the country 
seems a continuous city, with gardens interspersed among 
its palaces. 



THE CITY OF FLOWERS. 331 

The exterior of the cathedral, built of black and white 
marble, is perfectly magnificent. The dome which sur- 
mounts it is larger and taller than that of St. Peter's, but 
not elevated near so far from the pavement. Michael 
Angelo made it his model when he planned that majestic 
structure ; and marked out the place for his tomb in the 
Church of Santa Croce, in full view of its magnificent pro- 
portions. Brunnelleschi, the builder, sits in a niche across 
the way, looking up at bis work in the most natural man- 
ner, with an expression of intense pleasure upon his noble 
countenance. Near this statue is a marble slab let intu the 
wall, indicating the spot where Dante used to sit at sunset- 
ting, and gaze upon the glorious campanile, and listen to 
its incomparable chimes. The voice of the largest bell, 
full of majesty, is soft as a lady's lute. Hark ! it announces 
the Ave Maria ; and now the chimes of a dozen churches, 
like angel harmonies, are calling the populace to prayer. 
The tower itself is the finest thing in the world ; one can 
never be weary of looking at it ; and the Florentines, when 
they wish to describe anything as particularly beautiful, 
say, ' As beautiful as the Campanile.' The bronze doors 
of the baptistery, which Michael Angelo deemed fit to be 
the gates of Paradise, are not unworthy of their fame. 
The Medicean chapel, at the Church of San Lorenzo, en- 
crusted with jasper, and granite, and lapis-lazuli, is as gor- 
geous as human art can make it ; and the frescoes of its 
incomparable cupola are the finest things in Florence. 
The Church of Santa Croce is the Tuscan Westminster 
Abbey, containing the mausoleums of Michael Angelo, 
Machiaveili, Galileo, and many other men of genius, with 
the cenotaph of Dante, where his tomb should have been. 
The pretty Ponte Vecchio, lined on both sides with shops 
of jewelry, has quite an Oriental aspect ; and those golden 
chains seem to bind the feet of many a passenger. The 
Boboli Gardens, with their arbours of laurel, and arches of 
ilex, and colonnades of cypress, their pools, and fountains, 
and grottoes, and green terraces, and groups of statuary, 
are superior to the Pincio ; and the Cacine, with its lawns, 
and meadows, and hedges of shrubbery, and groves of ivy- 
mantled elms, and shady walks and drives along the pleasant 
Arno, frequented by the beau monde of Florence, and 



332 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

charmed with the songs of nightingales, is more beautiful, 
because less artificial, than the grounds of the Borghese or 
the Pamfilidoria. Here is a sketch for you; I name not 
its author : — 

What is yon the stranger sees, 
Peeping through the silken trees — 
Glittering bands of red and white, 
Peaks and masses rainbow-dight ? 

Stranger, 'tis a city rare — 

Tuscan Florence, passing fair. 

What is yon, with melting hue — 
Now 'tis lilac, now 'tis blue — 
Sharp the crest its outline heaves, 
Just behind the cottage eaves ? 

Stranger, 'tis the mountain's line — 

'Tis the purple Apennine. 

What is yon comes dipping, dancing, 
Sparkling, flashing, sweeping, glancing, 
Whispering through the osier bush, 
Eddying round the tufted rush ? 

Stranger, 'tis the Tuscan pride — 

His dear Arno's silver tide. 

Pictures and statues are things to look at, not to write 
about ; yet I should be set down for a blockhead and a 
Vandal were I to pass the belle arti of Florence unmen- 
tioned. Who knows not that in this fairest of Italian cities 
lives and toils our fellow-countryman, Hiram Power, glori- 
fying by his genius his own name and his native land? 
I have been several times in his studio, and spent an even- 
ing with the artist and his family at the house of a mutual 
friend. He is a very agreeable man, full of thought, and 
free of tongue ; always amusing you with his humour, but 
never offending you with his egotism. His Greek Slave 
which has enchanted the world, is surpassed I think by his 
America and his California. The former ought to be in 
the Capitol at Washington, for which it was intended ; 
but still stands in the sculptor's room, because the noble 
creature is trampling on a chain ! A finer expression of the 
spirit of freedom and scorn of tyranny could scarcely be 
conceived than that Power has here furnished to the world. 
Let the America come home ! 



IHE CITY OF FLOWERS. 333 

Florence has some of the finest things in existence ; and 
enough of the mediocre, the indifferent, and the intolerable, 
to bewilder one's brains for a twelvemonth. The Grand 
Duke throws open the Pitti collection with commendable 
liberality, though, no doubt, he has his reward in the 
revenue thus reaped from the forestieri. The Uffizi halls 
are seldom closed except on feast-days, and the Academia 
is as free as a bazaar. The great Piazza, with its adjacent 
Login, contains some admirable statuary. Ammanato's 
Neptune and horses are full of majesty and power. Michael 
Angelo's David is a noble creation ; but our party voted 
unanimously to christen him Saul. Benveouto Cellini's 
Perseus is the most remarkable bronze I ever saw — a 
glorious compensation for the fever which it cost him, and 
the plate sacrificed in the casting. Bandinelli's Hercules 
has something of the disdainful haughtiness which charac- 
terized its author : and this best production of the envious 
depredator of Michael Angelo and avowed enemy of Ben- 
venuto Cellini stands between the David and the Perseus. 

There is a group here by John of Bologna — a young man 
bearing off a young woman in his arms, with an old man 
strugrelino' beneath his feet — which has a very curious his- 
tory. The story is. that when it was finished, the artist 
called together his friends to tell him what he should call 
it : and after some deliberation and discussion, they agreed 
to name it * The Rape of the Sabines.' Its appearance pro- 
duced a wonderful sensation throughout Italy. An amateur 
at Rome, hearing of it, came all the way to Florence on 
horseback to see it. On his arrival he rode straight to the 
Logia. surveyed the group for a moment, exclaimed, ' Is 
that the thing they make so much noise about?' and then, 
without dismounting, turned his horse, and rode back to 
Rome. This production continues still to be the pet of 
Florence. Francis says justly. ' It has great merits, no 
doubt, but modesty is not one of them.' Yalery thinks "it 
is in reality little more than an ale-house scene — a soldier 
knocking down the husband, and then running away with 
his wife.' 

There are some excellent pictures in the Uffizi Palace, 
and an extensive collection of statuary. The Hall of Isiobe 
is full of touching interest— a noble expression of maternal 



dd4 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

love and sorrow. The Dancing Faun exhibits active 
motion with exquisite balance. The Wrestlers look as if 
they might edge along the floor and roll over the visitor. 
The charm of the Venus de Medicis is the incomparable 
attitude, combining the greatest modesty and dignity. 
Andrea del Sarto's Madonna perhaps has never been sur- 
passed. The two Madonnas of Raphael also are full of in- 
spiration. The works of Titian abound here ; but, as a 
sensible Scotchman says, ' the originals ought to be veiled, 
and the copies 'burned !' 

Florence is full of the productions of Michael Angelo. 
He is always ' grand, gloomy, and peculiar ;' and, with 
greater propriety than Napoleon, may be called, ' the man 
without a model, and without a shadow. 5 He excels in the 
monstrous and the terrible, is frequently more original than 
natural, and has but little in common with the ancient 
masters. His chisel reminds one of the pen of JEschylus, 
or the brush of Salvator Rosa. In tenderness he is far 
inferior to Canova — farther perhaps than Canova to the 
Greeks. By the way, how many things Michael Angelo 
left unfinished ! Here are dozens in Florence, abandoned 
in the various stages of their execution. Having dis- 
covered the figure in the formless block, he laboured with 
the utmost impetuosity to reach it, lopping oif huge masses 
with his chisel, and struggling fiercely against the stubborn 
stone ; but before he had fully brought his grand ideal 
to light, some fairer vision dawned upon his fancy ; 
and hastening to execute the latest prompting of his 
genius, he was always running away from one angel after 
another. 

The Pitti Palace contains more than five hundred large 
paintings, besides innumerable smaller ones. Here are the 
incomparable creations of Raphael, Ruysdale, Canova, 
Claude Lorraine, and Salvator Rosa. Of Raphael's ' Seg- 
giola,' originally painted on the head of a cask for the want 
of a better canvas, perhaps ten thousand copies have been 
taken. Canova's Venus occupied the pedestal of the 
Athenian beauty after the latter was carried captive to the 
Louvre, and was on that account surnamed by the Floren- 
tines, \ La Consolatrice.'' 

The Pitti Palace is the residence of the Grand Duke. 



THE CITY OF FLOWERS. 335 

While looking at his vast collection of gold and silver plate, 
I could not help wishing it were all coined into piastres, 
and I had the disposing of it. It would feed all Tuscany 
for a twelvemonth. The tables of Florentine mosaic, of 
which I saw eighteen or twenty, if sold for their real value, 
would furnish the whole city with bread for many years. 
One of these, composed entirely of precious stones, is worth 
two hundred thousand dollars ! No wonder Tuscany is rife 
with revolution. 

The Museum of Natural History is a world of beauty. 
We lingered long to gaze at the fine statue of Galileo, with 
his quaint old astronomical instruments arranged around 
him, the preserved right forefinger, with which he pointed 
a thousand times to the stars, and many other relics of the 
heroic philosopher. The Grand Duke, and his fine-looking 
wife, with all the royal family of sixteen, and the entire 
cortege of the Palace, were a far less interesting sight than 
the carpet of flowers, two hundred feet long, and sixty feet 
wide, over which the gorgeous procession passed on the feast 
of Corpus Domini. 

About the most impressive ceremony of this great Chris- 
tian festival, after all, is that of ' the Flying Ass.' Of this 
sublime solemnity I should have known nothing, but for 
the kind offices of an American and an English friend, who 
called to invite me to accompany them. The ass, with large 
gilt wings attached to his shoulders, was taken to the top 
of a lofty campanile, whence he slid down a rope extend- 
ing far into the broad piazza below. The holy animal 
brayed in a manner very edifying to the faithful just as he 
started earthward — a tolerable imitation of what I heard the 
same day in the cathedral! 

The Agricultural Fair, recently held at the Cacine, was 
a very interesting spectacle to a foreigner : albeit, the 
straight-handled scythes, the wooden pitchforks, the pon- 
derous hay-rakes and various labour-saving machines on 
exhibition, would have furnished no small amusement to an 
English or American farmer; but the floral display, for 
variety, delicacy, and gorgeousness, surpassed all I ever 
dreamed of the beautiful productions of our fallen planet. 
The horses were decidedly mean, the mules far inferior to 
those of Kentucky and Tennessee ; but what a sight for a 
British beef-eater, what a theme for a Latin bard, were 



336 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

those white and dove-coloured cows and oxen — so gigantic, 
yet so elegantly formed! Such was the ancient breed of 
the classical Clitumnus. The Tuscan cattle are all whit 
or dove-coloured, and if others are introduced from abroad, 
they soon learn to conform to the popular livery — an in- 
structive sermon for heretics. 

I cannot help saying a few words concerning the blas- 
phemy of art in Italy. In Kome, Naples, Florence, and 
everywhere, the Protestant tourist is continually shocked by 
the representations on canvas of the Son of God, and even 
of the Eternal Father, and the Holy Spirit, which obtrude 
themselves upon his sight in the churches and galleries. 
No pictures are more common ; yet the artists themselves 
acknowledge that the subjects infinitely transcend their 
skill of execution, and all human conception. Is it not 
blasphemy to touch them ? And what does the Romish 
Church with the second commandment, while she is thus 
decorating her places of worship ? 

True, ' the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, 
and we beheld his glory ;' but it was ' the glory as of the 
Only-Begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.' 
Who shall think to portray its attributes ? What rapture of 
artistic inspiration shall match the celestial beauty of that 
1 human face divine?' Christ was not without feeling; 
but he was above passion. Joy and sorrow could reach his 
soul, for he was man ; but they could not cloud his serenity, 
for he was God. Benevolence, which brought him from the 
throne to the manger, and led him from the manger to the 
cross, was his prevailing sentiment, and must have shed over 
all his features a perpetual expression of unparalleled benig- 
nity and love. To obey the laws of nature, or to suspend or 
reverse them, was to him equally easy ; a miracle cost him 
no effort, and produced in him no surprise. To submit or 
command to suffer or triumph, to live or die, were alike 
welcome in their turns, as the result of reason and of mercy. 
To do the will of his Father was the object of his mission ; 
and every step that led to its accomplishment, easy or ardu- 
ous, was to him the same. What painter shall presume to 
trace the semblance of such a character ? What hand has 
hitherto reached the conception of the mind that guided it, 
or what mind has conceived a worthy idea of the majestic 
beauty of the Son of God ? Every attempt must be an 



THE CITY OF FLOWEKS. 337 

infinite failure. True, the Divine Infants of Raphael, Titian, 
and Carlo Dolce are often of exquisite beauty ; and some of 
the last especially have I seen that seemed beings of really 
a superior nature, enjoying at once the innocence and the 
bloom of paradise; and the Saviour in Leonardo da Vinci's 
Last Supper is a wonderful figure, every feature of whose 
super-seraphic face speaks compassion and love. But it 
must be remembered that these were not the only attributes 
of thai sacred personage : justice and holiness sat serenely on 
his brow, and beamed through all his looks, casting an awful 
majesty as a veil about him ; and these grand qualities of 
the Godhead are sought for in vain in all the artistic repre- 
sentations I have yet seen of the world's Redeemer and 
Judge. Two or three have I looked upon of a nobler and 
happier touch : a Christ Disputing with the Doctors in the 
Temple, where the youthful face seems actually radiant with 
the Divine Reason ; a Christ Raising the Widow's Son at the 
gate of Nain, where unspeakable compassion seems blended 
with illimitable power ; and a picture of the Crucifixion, in 
which the unknown anguish of the sufferer is lit up with the 
sublime satisfaction of having achieved the world's redemp- 
tion. But these, and a few others, are exceptions. On very 
few of the pictures of Christ can the eye rest with any 
degree of pleasure. Even Michael Angelo, in his great 
painting of the Last Judgment, in the Sistine Chapel, has 
given the Judge the aspect of an irritated and vindictive 
monarch, more worthy of Homer's Jupiter than of the 
Christian's ' Judge of quick and dead.' 

But if such representations of ' the man Christ Jesus ' 
are necessarily failures, what shall we say of the frequent 
attempts to portray the Divine Essence itself, the grand 
archetype of all beauty and perfection ? True, the Prophet 
Daniel speaks of beholding the Ancient of days in a visible 
form, and traces an obscure sketch of the Eternal ; but he 
was guided by Inspiration Divine, to which none of our 
painters can pretend ; and even then, he attempts not to 
portray the features of God, and only one circumstance of 
his person is mentioned. He ventures no farther than the 
hair, the garments, the burning throne, the ministering 
host, and multitudes waiting their doom ; but leaves the 
form and face of the Eternal to the imagination — rather the 

z 



338 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

religious terror — of the reader. Artists should imitate his 
reverence, and refrain from all endeavours to embody the 
Infinite Mind in a human figure. How, indeed, can any 
one with proper views of the Divine Majesty venture on 
such an effort, or gaze with pleasure upon its result ? Yet 
God is thus insulted and dishonoured in almost every church 
of Italy ; and the original of all that is lovely or glorious in 
the universe is represented with the aspect of human decre- 
pitude and decay. In Raphael's picture of the Creation, in 
one of the galleries of the Vatican, the Eternal Father is 
painted with hands and feet expanded, darting into chaos, 
and reducing the distracted elements to order by mere 
physical motion. This might do for the pagan Jove ; but 
it will not do for the Christian God. It is unworthy of 
the artist's lofty genius. How different the representations 
of inspired Scripture : ' He spake, and they were made ; 
he commanded, and they were created !' 



( 339 ) 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

HURBYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 

Environs of Florence — Pisa — Grand Illumination — Past and Present 
— Leghorn — Pratolina — Summit of the Apennines — Covigliajo 
— Miniature Volcano — Poveri Infelice — Harvest Wages— Moun- 
tain Scenery— Bologna — Ferrara — Padua — Venice again — The 
Peter Martyr — Fine Churches — Solemn Stillness of the City — 
Across Lombardy — The Picturesque — Farewell to Italy — The 
Alps — The Tete Noir— Magnificent Iris — From Mont Blanc to 
London. 

I saw the Alps, the everlasting hills, 

A mighty chain, that stretched their awful forms, 

To catch the glories of the morning sun, 

And cast their shadows o'er the realms of noon. 

Dr. Eaffles. 

I will not detain my reader with a description of Fiesole 
the ancient ; like a royal mother looking down from her 
mountain throne upon the princely daughter — Fir erne la 
bella — at her feet. I shall say nothing of her Cyclopean 
wall, some ages older than the earliest substructions of 
Rome ; nor mention the remains of her arx and her amphi- 
theatre ; nor sketch the fair prospect towards Valambrosa 
and the Camaldoli — towards Pisa, and Livorno* and the 
Mediterranean coast ; or tell thee how the City of Flowers, 
itself a flower of wondrous beauty, opens from its calix 
before the enchanted gazer ; the Duomo and the Campa- 
nile in the centre, with the beautiful octagonal steeple of 
the Badia, and the lofty belfry of the Palazzo Vecchio, 
with the surrounding spires and towers, forming a cluster 
to which there is nothing comparable in Europe, shooting 
forth like the stamens and pistils ; while the suburban 
villas and villages, environed with fragrant vineyards and 
variegated gardens, and churches and convents clustering 
on every little hill, are like a vast corolla, spreading its 
gorgeous circumference, petal upon petal, for many miles 
around. 

Pardon this Oriental picture : the idea is borrowed ; and 
the simile falls immeasurably short of the incomparable 



340 THE AMERICAN TASTOR IN EUROPE. 

loveliness which it aims to describe. Charles the Fifth 
thought Florence was too beautiful to be seen except on 
holidays ; and Ariosto says, if all the fine villas which are 
scattered, as if the soil produced them spontaneously, over 
the surrounding eminences, were gathered within the wall, 
two Homes could not vie with her in beauty. 

Nor have I much to say of the Villa Mozzi, the retreat 
of Catiline the conspirator, where his buried jars of Roman 
coin were recently discovered ; the residence of Lorenzo 
the Magnificent, where he sat sublime in his lofty balcony, 
amid the encircling Apennines, with his feet dangling over 
Florence. Nor shall I stop long at San Miniato, with its 
romantic story of the conversion of Giovanni Gualberto, 
and its outlook upon the fairest of cities and the loveliest 
of valleys, ' down which the yellow Arno, through its long 
reaches, steals silently to the sea.' Nor more than point to 
the Torre del Gallo, where ' the starry Galileo ' read the 
open book of heaven ; and the villain which he dwelt on the 
JBellosguardo, where he communed with Milton, and 
whence at length his spirit returned to God. 

To-morrow — the sixteenth of June — is the grand quad- 
rennial festival at Pisa, in honour of its patron, San 
Ranieri ; and we must not miss the brilliant Laminara, 
the most splendid spectacle of the kind in the world. Two 
hours by railway, and we are there. It is not yet noon, 
but the city is swarming with people. A little refresh-, 
ment, and away to see the superb Duomo, the incompar- 
able Baptistery, the terrific beauty of the inclining Campa- 
nile, and the Campo Santo, with its monuments and in- 
scriptions, its numerous statues and frescoes, and its sixteen 
feet of holy earth, brought from Mount Calvary, and per- 
chance crimsoned with the blood of our Redeemer. 

It is evening. Throughout the day, up and down the 
Lungarno, on both sides of the river, extensive prepara- 
tions for the illumination have been going forward, at 
immense cost ; and now the lamps are lighted, and the 
front, of every building is ablaze from base to battlement, 
and the temporary structures which have been reared in every 
part of the city kindle gradually into castles and temples 
and palaces of fire in every fantastic form ; and arches of 
fire spring over the Arno ; and festoons of fire run along 



HURRYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 341 

its bridges ; and gondolas of fire glide to and fro upon its 
waters ; and crosses of fire seem suspended here and there 
against the ebon sky ; and every street is an avenue of fire, 
and every dome is a hemisphere of fire, and every campauile 
a column of fire, and the great leaning tower a vision of 
beauty never to be forgotten. I had seen the illumination 
of Saint Peter's, and the grand pyrotechnic display from 
the Pincio ; but these were nothing to what I here beheld. 
It was more beautiful than any dream. It looked as if 
heaven had rained all its stars upon the city, and made me 
think of the New Jerusalem which shall one day come 
down from God ! 

6 A glowing picture, my friend!' Would that you had 
been there, appreciating reader, to behold with me the far 
more brilliant original ! 

Pisa was once a proud and prosperous city, flourishing in 
arts and arms and literature, with a university second only 
to that of Padua, But her wealth has made to itself wings, 
and the prestige of her name is gone. We saw Austrian 
soldiers, at the railway station, riding through the throng to 
keep them in order ; and an inoffensive courier, who was 
endeavouring to procure billetti for his party, had his 
beaver cloven through from top to bottom with the sword, 
and narrowly escaped with his skull. 

And now, by vettura, with our genial friends, the 
Olmsteds, on our way to Bologna, we are climbing the 
piney Apennines. Soon we pass Pratolina, whose beauty, 
with that of its fair enchantress, Bianca Capella, is melo- 
diously sung by Tasso. And here is the picturesque con- 
vent of Monte Senario, environed with beautiful groves of 
cypress and cedar and laurel. Then we reached the 
loftiest point in the route, an altitude of more than three 
thousand feet, where the road traverses for some distance a 
narrow ridge, with a steep descent into a deep glen on 
either side, and a fine view of the mountains in every direc- 
tion, the blue line of the Adriatic on the eastern horizon, 
and the vast plain of Lombardy to the north, bounded by 
the dim wall of the Alps. 

We found our first night's lodging at Covigliajo, a soli- 
tary inn, picturesquely seated on the side of Monte Bene, 
This Monte Bene is a jagged mass of serpentine, thrust up 



342 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

through the shattered superincumbent strata. The stone 
is exceedingly beautiful, and full of large and lustrous crys- 
tals. We wandered far up the acclivity, plucking flowers, 
of which we found fifty-seven varieties in an hour's w 7 alk ; 
and then descended into the sweeiest of valleys, charmed 
by the call of the cuckoo and the song of the rosiynuolo 
from the fragrant copses. This inn is much better pro- 
vided than formerly with conveniences for the travelling 
public, through a benevolent freak of the Czarina of 
Russia ; who, purposing to spend a night there, and aware 
of the wretchedness of the place, brought with her from 
Florence everything necessary for her comfort, even to 
carpets, tables, and tea-service ; all of which, on the 
morrow, as she departed, she bequeathed to the host. We 
knew not then, or we might not have slept so quietly, that 
this was the very establishment of which Forsyth tells so 
horrible a tale. Travellers arrived, departed, disappeared, 
and were never heard of more. What became of them 
could not be discovered. Officers were sent to search 
the mountains for banditti. But the real miscreants were 
for a long time unsuspected : the padrona, the cameriere, 
and the curate of a neighbouring village. They secretly 
murdered every traveller that had money, jewels, or other 
valuables ; and burned his clothes, carriage, or whatever 
else miuht lead to their detection Detected at length 
they were, however, and their punishment was as prompt 
and terrible as it was just. 

As we departed the next morning, we passed a miniature 
volcano, an emission of carburetted hydrogen gas from the 
sicje of the mountain, burning perpetually, with a bluish 
flame by day, and a brilliant red by night. 

Having paid liberally for our entertainment, and know- 
ing that we were soon to cross the papal frontier, we 
pocketed the remnants of our collazione for the poveri 
infelice we might chance to meet with on our way. In a 
very short time we re-entered the dominions of His Holi- 
ness, and immediately saw and felt the difference. The 
people flocked out of the villages to meet us, and awaited 
our approach at the ascent of every hill. One poor 
creature followed us a long distance, crying, 'Do, dear 
ladies, give me a little money ! Excellent and illustrious 



HURRYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 343 

gentlemen, do have compassion upon my poverty !' And 
then she promised to say a whole string of beads for 
every one of us, and invoked for us the blessing of all the 
saints, and the company of all the good angels, in our 
journey. When we gave her nothing, she renewed her 
entreaty, conjuring us by the name of the Virgin and her 
Blessed Son, by the love of God and the holy sacrament, 
till sundry small coin stopped her importunity. I counted 
thirteen children at once, running along by the vettura^ 
all clamouring for piccola moneta. We gave them bread, 
and cheese, and chicken, and boiled eggs, which they 
devoured with great avidity. These poor people live 
chiefly on chestnuts, which they grind and bake into bread ; 
and the seed of the stone-pine, which is by no means so 
despicable a diet as one might imagine, especially with the 
addition of a little polenta, 

A woman, who was on her way to the harvest-field, told 
us that she laboured all day, at making hay or cutting 
wheat, for cinque baiocchi — five cents, or a pound and. a 
half of bread. ' But what do you do,' said I, ' when there 
is no hay to make or wheat to cut ?' ' We plait straw for 
bonnets,' was her reply. ' And do you never get any better 
wages ?' ' Never any better.' ' Have you a family to sup 
port ?' ' Xo husband, but four children.' ' And do you 
find it easy to feed four children on five baiocchi a day ?' 
' Ah, Signore ' — with a mournful shake of the head — 4 it is 
very hard for us down here ; but up there ' — pointing to 
the sky — ' we shall be in glory.' ' Why do you hope so ?' 
' I ask Maria Santissima to speak to her Son for me.' 
Alas for the Italian poor ! 

Oh for words to describe the scenery of the Apennines ! 
There is no end to its variety : now bleak, and bare, and 
rugged as Vesuvius ; then softly beautiful, or wildly luxu- 
riant, beyond all power of language to express. Here the 
road winds among crags and precipices, crowned with dis- 
mantled fortresses and ruined castles, skirted with dark 
pine forests, and opening into gulfs of Tartarean gloom ; 
and anon come such glimpses of paradise, such sunny vales, 
and vine-clad hills, and flowery pastures, and fields of 
golden grain, with villas peeping out through their avenues 
of ilex, and convents overlooking their hedges of laurel 



344 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

and cedar ! It grew more and still more lovely, as we 
descended into the valley of Savena ; the Jand everywhere 
cultivated like a garden ; the silver foliage of the olive- 
groves contrasting beautifully with the luxuriant fields of 
wheat ; long lines of mulberry, with an interminable 
traillage of vines flung from tree to tree ; hamlets, and 
villas, and churches, and monasteries, multiplying along our 
way, till the country became almost a continuous city, 

Another night, and then the slender campaniles of 
Bologna broke upon our view — Bologna, famous for its 
leaning towers, its arcaded streets, its university, and its 
sausages. We spent three days here ; and saw our old 
friend Pio Nono, who had come to bless his children, and 
be publicly crowned in the cathedral ; but all the previous 
night, as our Italian courier informed us, his children were 
cursing him in undertones through the city, because he 
had granted no manumission to their friends, who had lain 
nine years untried in their dungeons. 

Still northwards, over the plains of Lombardy. A night 
at JFerrara, a walk through its grass-grown streets, and a 
visit to ' // Prigione di Torquato Tasso. 9 The dreary 
cell in which the poet languished seven years and one 
month is not more than ten feet square. Byron, Rogers, 
Dickens, and many others, have scratched their names upon 
the wall. These three needed no connection with Tasso 
to give them immortality. In the centre of this dilapidated 
and half-ruined city stands an ugly brick fortress, misnamed 
a palace, surrounded by a broad fosse, with drawbridges. 
Here Alphonso feasted, while poor Tasso pined in his 
dungeon. 

'But time at length brings all things even,' 

and amply has posterity avenged the poet of his persecutor. 
The next night we lodged at Padua — -the ancient, the 
learned, the sombre — founded, it is said, by Trojan Antenor, 
whose remains — -smile not thus bitterly, incredulous reader 
— were exhumed in the thirteenth century, and can still be 
seen for a few grazie in the church of San Lorenzo. 
Here is the church of San? Antoviio, crowned with eight 
copulas, besides minarets and campaniles — a gorgeous 
Oriental structure ; and here is the university, formerly 



HURRYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 345 

the first in Italy ; where the great Baldus taught 6 The 
"Written Reason ;' and where the beautiful maiden, Helena 
Lucrezia Carnaro Piscopia, Doctor of Philosophy, learned 
in many languages, wearing the Benedictine habit, lectured 
on theology, astronomy, and mathematics, and sang her 
own verses to her own music. 

Hence to Venice is only twenty-seven miles ; and the 
next morning its domes and towers and palaces, all gilded 
by the sun, rise glittering before us, like a gorgeous ex- 
halation from the bosom of the sea. We spent two days, 
and saw the picture, and agreed with Mrs. Jameson, that 
it is ' one of the most magical in the world ' — ' its terrific 
horrors redeemed by its sublimity.' It is in the church of 
San Giovanni e Paolo, where the Doges are buried, and 
where we saw also a charming series of bas-reliefs in white 
marble. Again we strolled through the grand old Palazzo 
Ducale, and among the four hundred columns of San 
Marco. We visited many other churches, rich in paint- 
ings, statuary, many-coloured marble, and all the luxuries 
of architectural magnificence. It is amazing to see with 
what prodigality the most splendid and costly materials 
are lavished upon these buildings — columns of Egyptian 
porphyry ; altars of Oriental alabaster ; pulpits of verd- 
antique and pavanazzetto ; shrines and tombs of snowy 
marble, glittering with gems and gold ; walls and ceilings 
encrusted with agate and jasper, inlaid with lapis-lazuli ; 
and pavements of elegant mosaic work, elaborately disposed 
in the most curious patterns. 

Solemn and strange is the silence of this great city. No 
rumbling of carriages shakes the buildings ; no tramp of 
horses echoes along the streets. You hear only the hum 
of human voices, the melancholy cry of the gondolier, and 
the measured dip of his oar, with the sighing of the waters 
along the basements of lofty palaces, the soft chiming of 
bells at the hour of Ave Maria, or a band of music by 
moonlight upon the Grand Canal. When we took our 
departure, we were prepared, I think, to appreciate the old 
Italian proverb : 

Venezia, Yenezia ! 
Chi non ti vede, non ti prezia ; 
Ma chi t'ha troppo veduto, 

Ti disprezia. 



346 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

And now for the Alps. Repassing scholastic Padua; 
then j Vice?iza, the native city of Palladio ; and Verona, 
with its serrated walls, and slender towers, and antique 
amphitheatre ; and the lovely Lago di Garda, with towns 
and villages smiling along its margin ; and Brescia; and 
Cocaglio and Treviglio, of which I know nothing that I 
would not gladly forget ; and 3Iila.no once more, with its 
gorgeous marble toy ; and the waters of Como, too beau- 
tiful for words ; and the neighbouring Lugano, locked in 
the embrace of 'the everlasting hills ;' and Varesa, with 
its wondrous 3Iadonna del Monte ; and Maggiore, with its 
magical islands, and colossal statue of San Carlo Borromeo; 
and Dorno oV Ossola, where we spent so pleasant a Sabbath, 
and were treated so politely by the Rettori of the Calvary 
and the College ; — scenes daguerreotyped eternally upon 
my soul ! 

In the picturesque, what country on earth can vie with 
Italy ? You meet with it everywhere, at all seasons, in 
every variety of form ; shedding a charm around the com- 
monest objects, beautifying the humblest scenes of social 
life, and giving an indescribable poetic interest to city and 
hamlet, to mountain, valley, grove, and stream, Towns 
climbing the conical hills ; convents crowning the great 
pyramids of nature ; ruined temples looking down from 
their ancient precipices ; pretty villas embowered in ever- 
greens, with slender cypresses, and long arcades of ilex ; 
fragrant gardens, with fountains and statues interspersed 
among luxuriant plants and shrubbery, and winding walks 
between walls of living verdure; the golden orange and 
the gorgeous pomegranate, canopied with the silvery foliage 
of the olive ; the stone-pine, lifting its broad parasol over 
the mountains ; the waggon reeling with its load of purple 
clusters, beneath the far-reaching festoons of the vine ; the 
jessamine and the honeysuckle wreathing the fruitful fig- 
tree with beauty ; the swelling dome and soaring campanile 
peering over every green and flowery hill ; the peasant, 
with a bunch of roses in his hat, singing to his guitar, as 
he saunters along the way ; the shepherd knitting a gray 
stocking as he marches in the van of his flock, while his 
faithful dog brings up the rear; the pretty contadina, 
with her white veil, yellow sleeves, and scarlet petticoat, 
wielding the distaff at the door of her father's cottage; 



HUIIRYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 347 

seas and bays and lakes of the purest azure, overarched 
with the softest skies, and kindling with the most gorgeous 
sunset glories; — this is what I cail the picturesque — a 
word which, I frankly confess with Mrs. Jameson, I never 
fully understood till I went to Italy. And now — 

' Once more among the old gigantic hills, 

With vapours clouded o'er ; 
The vales of Lombardy grow dim behind, 

And rocks ascend before. 
They beckon me — the giants — from afar, 

They wing my footsteps on ; 
Their helms of ice, their plumage of the pine, 

Their cuirasses of stone.' 

Imagine me, afrer six months spent in Italy, with my 
back at length on all her beauties, ascending the gloomy 
gorge of Gondo, crossing the torrents that descend from 
many a glacier, and pausing amid the snowy solitudes of 
the Simplon to look back upon the paradise of delights left 
behind me for ever. 

Nine miles we walk, in advance of our voiture, up the 
fine Simplon road, till we reach the Hospice at the 
summit, where we pause to talk with the aged Rettore, and 
make the acquaintance of those noble dogs. 

Brieg, Sion, the Vallais, and ' the arrowy Rhone/ At 
Martigny we abandon wheels and take to the donkey. Oh, 
that passage over the Forclaz ! Then the Tete Noir, with 
its forest of larches, thick as they can stand, and every 
trunk as straight as an arrow ! In many places the moun- 
tain-side is clothed with flowers; and far up, where no 
other growth is to be seen, the rhododendron flourishes in 
gay luxuriance. Here a cross is erected to mark the spot 
where, only a few months since, a luckless passenger 
perished in the snow ; and a little farther on, the place is 
pointed out where a party were swept away by an 
avalanche. A wild sublimity reigns around us. Huge 
fragments of rock lie scattered and piled on all sides, as if 
all the gods of the Iliad had made this their battle-ground 
for centuries. The eternal glaciers glitter among the 
jagged aiguilles that pierce the clouds, and feathery water- 
falls leap apparently from the sky into frightful chasms 
beneath. Here is the Cascade Barbarine, formed by a 



348 the amf;rican pastor in Europe. 

stream which rushes down the mountain from a dizzy- 
height, and then plunges a sheer precipice of four hundred 
feet. A little platform, built out over the water from a 
projecting rock, afforded us a view of marvellous beauty. 
The sun was at the meridian, shining in his utmost 
strength ; and beneath us lay a glorious horizontal iris, 
about three hundred feet in diameter — a complete circle, 
with the exception of the small arc covered by the platform. 
It was a sight for an angel's eye ! 

For some account of our further progress, and how it 
happened that too much wine in the driver's brain upset 
our char-a-banc, and well-nigh hurled us down the pre- 
cipice ; of our descent into the vale of Chamouni ; our 
introduction to 'the Monarch of Mountains,' his aspect, 
clouded and unclouded ; the Brevent, the Flegere, the 
Montanvert, and the Aiguille de Dru ; and how we spent 
the Fourth of July, the writer's birthday, in wandering 
over the Mer de Glace and the Glacier de Bos son, and 
along their rugged borders ; and how we were honoured 
with the view of a glorious avalanche — an immense mass of 
snow rushing several thousand feet down the mountain- 
side, as if for our personal gratification ; the enchantments 
of our trip to Geneva ; a Sabbath in the city of Calvin ; a 
sermon from the patriarchal Dr. Malan ; a meeting with 
friends whom we had known and loved at Rome ; a steam- 
boat excursion on the lake ; Lausanne, Vevey, and the 
prison of Chi Hon ; Byron, Gibbon, Rousseau, Yoltaire, 
Madame de Stael, and the sainted Fletcher, whose names 
are all linked with its cerulean waters ; the interesting 
panstereorama, which greatly helped our meagre compre- 
hension of the Alpine Chorography, and verified the 
Scotchman's idea of Switzerland — that, small as it seems, it 
would be a pretty large country, if flattened out like 
Holland ; — for this and much more, I must again refer the 
reader to ' Reflected Fragments.' 

Hence over the Jura, and down the Rhine, with many a 
pleasant incident; the castled Heidelberg, with its uni- 
versity and its duels ; Frankfort and Weimar, with their 
memorials of Goethe and Schiller; Erfurt and Eisenach, 
with their memorials of a mightier than they; the sadly 
pleasing meeting at Dresden with one beloved, whom we 



HUERYGRAPHIC MISCELLANEA. 349 

had left there six months before ; the scribe's departure 
solus for his native land, where he sojourned four blessed 
months in Eden ; our subsequent meeting in Paris, the 
happy days we spent there, the return to England, and 
' Paradise Regained ;'— these likewise, all and singular, are 
among the same ' Fragments ' with due fidelity ' Reflected.'* 

* Our traveller uses sometimes highly poetic figures in order to 
be more than usually picturesque. The above is a specimen of 
this habit. — Ed. 



( 350 ) 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES; 

Forty-nintli Cousin — Illustrious Ancestry — Laying of a Foundation- 
stone — Tea-Party Number One — Tea-Party Number Two — Tea- 
Party Number Three — Tea-Party Number Four — Tea-Party 
Number Five — Tea-Party Number Six — Tea-Party Number 
Seven — Tea-Party Number Eight — Anecdote of Mr. Spurgeon. 

When first in London, by the merest accident, say rather 
by the most remarkable providence, I made the acquain- 
tance of Dr. Robert Cross, a pious man, and in all respects 
worthy of his name, and of the right hand of fellowship 
which I gave him. He promptly claimed a relationship — 
that of forty-ninth cousin, or some other ; and cordially 
offered me the hospitalities of his house on my return from 
the continent ; which, of course, I was not uncivil enough 
to decline. And now congratulate me, generous reader, 
on my arrival and reception at No. 20 New Street, Spring 
Gardens, just on the corner of St. James's Park, with a 
fine outlook upon Westminster Abbey, and within a stone's 
throw of Trafalgar Square — the occupant of better quarters 
than often fall to the lot of my profession, and the guest of 
one of the worthiest families to be found without the gates 
of Eden. The Doctor told me more of my ancestry than 
I ever knew before ; gave me, somewhat in detail, the 
pedigree of the family ; the chief facts of which (a few 
mountain summits peering through the mists of antiquity), 
I here record for the edification of the reader's reverence 
for his author. 

The first of the name, of whom anything is certainly 
known, was one Odo Saint Croix, a monk and crusader in 
the battalions of Richard Cceur de Lion, in the latter part 
of the twelfth century. The biographer of our illustrious 
relation, the late Dr. Andrew Crosse, the famous chemist 
and electrician, of Somersetshire, speaks of an Odo de 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 351 

Santa Croce, a Norman thane, or nobleman, who accompa- 
nied William the Conqueror into Britain, something more 
than a hundred years earlier than the period I have men- 
tioned. This Odo may have been the great-grandfather, 
or the sublime great-grandfather of our crusading Odo. Be 
that as it may — and my utmost ambition finds its goal in 
the latter — it is a fact pretty well authenticated, that at the 
siege of Ascalon this immortal monk led the forlorn hope 
of a disastrous day, and planted the banner of the cross 
upon the heights of the citadel. For this heroic act he was 
promptly knighted by his sovereign. The crest conferred 
upon him was a crane — the sacred bird of the East — bear- 
ing a cross in its beak. The following beautiful sentence 
he chose for his motto : ' Cruce dum spirojido? The figures 
on his shield were identical with those of the Knights 
Templars ; to which order, therefore, our redoutable monk 
must have belonged. The honour of knighthood not being 
hereditary, the title expired with its possessor. But some 
time afterwards the family was ennobled with the title of 
Baron Upton ; and subsequently with that of Earl of Lex- 
ington ; which was forfeited during the civil wars by being 
found on the wrong side in politics. A descendant, who 
had served with distinction in the Peninsular War, and 
was one of the officers who, under Lord Beresford, assisted 
in organizing the Portuguese army, was created a Knight 
of the Tower and Sword of Portugal. Having had a taste 
of glory, he subsequently conceived the idea of reviving 
the ancient family title. With this view, he spent a whole 
year tracing out his pedigree at the British Museum and 
elsewhere. Having a considerable claim upon government 
for service rendered, he prosecuted his researches with 
ardour, and was very sanguine of success, till he found a 
branch of the original stock older than that to which he 
belonged, when he very prudently dropped the enterprise. 
Of this older branch Dr. Robert Cross is the oldest son, 
and, therefore, the person properly entitled to the enviable 
distinction aforesaid. He, however, is a perfect Gallio in 
the matter ; deeming the honour scarcely worth the trouble 
of its acquisition. The revival of a former title is always 
attended with difficulty, and seldom will Parliament enter- 



352 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

tain a proposition for the purpose, except in case of some 
very distinguished service to the Crown. On this account, 
I intend quietly to pursue my literary avocation, in imita- 
tion of the unambitious but successful Lord Macaulay ; 
depending for my future honours less upon any hereditary 
claim than upon the popularity of this my European 
itinerary. Meanwhile, humble reader, respect thy author, 
who from the forementioned illustrious Odo Saint Croix, 
if not from his sublime great-grandfather, Odo de Santa 
Croce, is most indubitably descended ; and that by a very 
stupendous scale — my grandfather a pedagogue, my father 
a carpenter, and myself a Methodist preacher! And it is 
surely something consolatory, in the absence of all other 
hereditary emoluments, to know that ' my father's house,' 
though ' small in Israel,' had a titled ancestry, possessing 
sundry broad acres in the neighbourhood of Brent Knoll, 
and scouring the surrounding plains with packs of yelping 
hounds, long before Monmouth led his forces through 
4 Brentmarsh ' to the fatal field of Sedgemoor. And it is 
not a little edifying to one's comfortable estimate of him- 
self, after having lain more than thirty years under the 
levelling despotism of this odious democracy, to trace the 
several streams of his ancestral aristocracy up to their com- 
mon source in the mighty Odo ; and to find the identical 
coat-of-arms worn by him still retained in all the three 
branches of the family extant — in Somersetshire, in Here- 
fordshire, and in Nottinghamshire ; to one or another of 
which three branches every ' forked radish' surnamed Cross, 
whether on this or that side of the Atlantic, doth beyond 
all controversy belong. 

Soon after my arrival, I was informed that the corner- 
stone of a new Wesley an chapel was to be laid that very day 
at Acton, six miles out of the city. I thought this would 
be a good opportunity to see something of the spirit of 
English Methodism. But how should I get there in time ? 
for it was now half-past one, and the service was advertised 
to commence at two. My forty-ninth cousin suggested that 
a Hansom's cab and double fee to the driver would do it. 
Whoever wants a pleasant and rapid ride in England should 
patronize Hansom's Patent Safety ; and he who, upon ex- 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 353 

periment, does not thank me for the advice, is nothing better 
than an ill-conditioned Vandal. Jehu, son of Nimshi ! 
with what a rush we went ! and with what an air of exqui- 
site satisfaction the driver touched his cap as he pocketed 
his six shillings sterling ! 

I reached the spot just as the assembly commenced sing- 
ing : and with much difficulty elbowed my way through 
the outer circles of the throng, and obtained a stand where 
I could see and hear. After the hymn, and an excellent 
prayer by the superintendent of the circuit, the Rev. Mr. 
Wiseman — not the cardinal, but a much wiser man — de- 
livered a very happy address. He reviewed the history of 
Methodism, recounted the toils and sufferings of its sainted 
heroes, and praised the zeal and liberality of Thomas Farmer, 
Esq.. to whom this circuit, and particularly this society, 
were so much indebted for their pecuniary prosperity. Then 
a fine silver trowel, with a long commendatory inscription 
upon it, was presented to the good old man ; who, after a 
nice little speech in reply, with this beautiful instrument 
proceeded to enact the mason, plentifully interspersing the 
performance with pleasant little speeches, which the mul- 
titude applauded right lustily. This ended, he invited all 
present to repair to his park near by, and partake of a 
repast which he had provided ; and then the assembly was 
dismissed with the doxology and the benediction. 

This was my opportunity for delivering to Mr. Farmer a 
letter of introduction which I bore from Dr. Taylor, our late 
missionary to China. Of course, I got a special invitation 
to the park, and was honoured with one of the chief places 
at the feast. Seven hundred persons, or more, gathered 
around the table. The first thing done was the singing of 
grace by the whole company standing : 

' Be present at our table, Lord ; 
Be here and everywhere adored ; 
These creatures bless, and grant that we 
May feast in Paradise with thee/ 

After a plentiful refreshment, and abundance of pleasant 
chat, .all arose, and returned thanks, to the tune of Old 
Hundred, in the following words : 

1 We thank thee, Lord, for this our food ; 
But more than all for Jesus' blood : 

2 A 



354 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Let manna to our souls be given, 

The bread of life sent down from heaven.' 

Then Mr. Milburn delivered a long address on the Early 
Methodist Preachers in America — substantially one of the 
series of lectures to which thousands lately listened with so 
much delight on our side of the Atlantic. It was evidently 
new to an English audience, and touched the people at a 
hundred points. They laughed and wept by turns, and 
occasionally cheered vociferously. Having alluded to his 
American brother, who was present, the writer was requested 
to follow the ' Blind Orator.' I promptly gave them proof 
of my willingness to ' speak in meeting,' and assured them 
that I should be ready to respond to all subsequent calls 
of the kind while in London. 

It was good to be there. I had often heard of the Wes- 
leyan tea-parties, and very much desired to witness the phe- 
nomenon. It is interesting to see with what a hearty good 
will our British brethren engage in such Christian merry- 
making. Verily, the half was not told me. It was pleasant 
also to meet my friend Mr. Harper, who was in company 
with Mr. Milburn : and to make the acquaintance of the 
author of the ' Successful Merchant* and the ' Tongue of 
Fire,' just returned in improved health from his sojourn in 
the East. So much for Tea- Party Number One. 

Tea- Party Number Two was not less interesting, though 
very different. Having accidentally become acquainted 
with the Dean of Westminster, I was invited to spend an 
evening at his residence in the Abbey. The company con- 
sisted chiefly of clergymen— a dozen or more of the most 
distinguished iri the metropolis, including two of the canons 
of St. Paul's, and as many ladies. It was a very pleasant 
reunion ; and, after it was over, I returned to the house 
of my forty-ninth cousin thoroughly convinced that the 
English ladies and gentlemen are the most agreeable people 
in the world. I never felt more at home in any society, 
and never enjoyed a three hours' chit-chat with a good- 
lier zest. The Dean is a quiet, humble, unobtrusive, 
and exceedingly amiable man ; and his wife is one of the 
loveliest of womankind. Through the kind offices of Dean 
Trench, the next day a note arrived from the Earl of 
Shaftesbury, enclosing a ticket to admit me to the House 






METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 355 

of Lords, where Lord Brougham spoke for an hour. The 
British Demosthenes is not what he once was, though he 
st ill has much energy, occasionally kindles with a genial 
warmth, and is listened to with the most profound respect. 

Tea-Party Number Three was a conversazione of the 
National Club, to which I was admitted on the recom- 
mendation of Dr. Cross, who is a member. The subject of 
the evening was the Dwellings of the Poor, and their Im- 
provement. Lord Shaftesbury was in the chair, and opened 
the discussion in an admirable Christian speech. The Rt. 
Rev. Robert Bickersteth, Lord Bishop of Ripon, followed 
with a series of facts and arguments which I wish all the 
philanthropy of England could have heard. Then there 
were remarks by the Rev. C. Champneys, canon of St. 
Paul's ; by the Rev. Mr. Marsden, of Birmingham ; by 
Lord Charles Russell, brother of Lord John ; by the Hon. 
William Cowper, the Hon. Arthur Kinnaird, Sir Brook 
Bridges, Dr. Dickson, and several more. Much interesting 
information was elicited, many frightfully graphic pictures 
were drawn of the condition of the poor in their homes, 
and the speakers seemed to be deeply concerned for their 
social and moral improvement. Think of a whole family — 
father, mother, and seven children — living in a room eight 
feet square, without bed, chair, stool, or table ! What 
think you, benevolent reader, of three families in a room 
eisrht bv ten ? what of their comfort ? what of their morals ? 
How can they possibly be Christians ? And the speakers 
argued very logically that their homes must be improved 
before their souls can be saved. I afterwards went with 
Dr. Cross in his charitable ronnds, into many of these dens 
of filth and crime ; and from such scenes into some of the 
Model Lodging-Houses, established through the energetic 
labours of Lord Shaftesbury. It is a refreshing contrast. 

Very different still was Tea-Party Number Four — em- 
phatically < the feast of reason and the flow of soul ' — to 
wit, a meeting in behalf of the Crown Court Ragged 
Schools. Lord Alfred Paget was in the chair, who has 
lately, under the ministry of Dr. Camming, turned his 
attention to religion ; and is just beginning, in good ear- 
nest, to work. The Bishop of Ripon was advertised as one 
of the speakers, but did not make his appearance. Mr. 



356 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Milburn's name, also, through my officiousness, was in the 
programme ; but he left the city a day or two before, and 
was then in Liverpool. As the writer was an i American ' 
— albeit an ' English American ' — it fell to his lot to 
deliver the first address. Mr. McGregor, a barrister, fol- 
lowed with an admirable speech. The facetious Mr. Payne, 
also a barrister, kept the house in a perfect uproar for thirty 
minutes with his anecdotes and original poetry. Would 
that I could describe his speech to the American reader, it 
was so remarkable an instance of the freedom and the fun 
of the British platform. After reciting, by way of proem, 
some twenty verses which he had composed for the occasion, 
the most unique I ever heard, he proceeded to characterize 
the work of the society in the following string of propo- 
sitions : 

6 I. It is a Good and Great Work, 
' II. A Love and Hate Work, 
' III. A Pray and Wait Work,' 
' IV. An Early and Late Work, 

< V. A No Debate Work, and 

< VI. An Excellent Fate Work ;' 

each of which he sustained and illustrated, logically and 
theologically, by short arguments and striking anecdotes, 
with snatches of the queerest original poetry ever manu- 
factured by mortal man. There is no platform speaker in 
London more popular than this same Counsellor Payne. 
Then the Rev. Dr. Cumming brought up the rear in his 
own peculiar manner. I think he is one of the happiest 
declaimers I ever heard. # On the whole, it was a very 
pleasant tea-party, and resulted in pecuniary profit to the 
cause. The Ragged School movement is a noble charity, 
and is effecting incalculable good for the poor children of 
the metropolis ; and not for them alone, but also for their 
fathers and mothers, and for society at large. 

Tea-party Number Five was a tea-party ' in deed and 
in truth ;' ay, and a dinner-party, too ; and it would have 
done both your soul and body good, benevolent reader, to 
have been there. The ' Lord Mayor of London Town ' — 

* The reverend divine is here introduced in a light at least new. 
—Ed. 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 357 

not he of the feline fame, Mr. Richard Whittington — had 
invited the Ragged School Shoe-blacks to an entertainment 
at his country seat. At eight o'clock in the morning, the 
jolly little feliows met at their several stations, and 
marched to the railroad, where an excursion train awaited 
them. It was a pleasant sight — six hundred boys under 
fourteen years of age, all rescued from ruin, most of them 
having been street beggars or pickpockets, with the officers 
and friends of the society, marching to their own music, 
and bearing the banners of their redemption ; and it was 
delightful to hear the comments and commendations of 
gentlemen and ladies, as they met the procession, and 
paused to gaze after it, often with tearful eyes, as it wound 
along the narrow street. There were six ' brigades,' all 
dressed in jerseys of different colours, and called the Red, 
the Blue, the Green, the Brown, the Purple, and the 
Yellow. Now and then, as one of their chief patrons 
made his appearance, and fell into the train, they would 
raise such a merry shout as might gladden the heart of any 
philanthropist in Christendom. Eight miles upon the rail- 
road, and w r e were at Y/anstead Park. The Lord Mayor 
and his lady came by, in a gay carriage — the very fac- 
simile of ' Dick Whittington's ' as you have seen it in 
nursery pictures — with gaudily-attired postilions and out- 
riders. A roll upon the drums, and three hearty cheers, 
made the oaks and firs vibrate with joy. ' That will do !' 
cries the marshal of the day. ' Three times three for the 
Lord Mayor!' sings out the little fellow with the banner 
in the van of the blue brigade. And three times three 
they gave, and their clear young voices rang through the 
grove — the prelude of a joyful future. Arrived on the 
ground, they are arranged in a circle, and seated on the 
grass. The Lord Mayor steps into the centre, takes off 
his hat, and opens his mouth to speak ; but before he has 
said i Boys,' ' Hurrah for the Lord Mayor i' over and over 
again, shout the whole six hundred. ' Boys, I am glad to 
see you here ' — says the Lord Mayor, as soon as he can 
be heard — ' you are welcome to my grounds !' ' Thankee, 
sir ! Thankee, sir ! Glad to see you too, sir ! Welcome 
here yourself, sir !' reply the whole company from the bottom 
of their lungs ; and then ' Hurrah for the Lord Mayor V 



358 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

rings along the line again for a minute or two ; he mean- 
while waiting for an opportunity to continue his speech. 
He resumes : ' You may go where you like, and amuse 
yourselves as you please ; only don't get over the fences, 
or into the water, or so far away that you can't hear the 
dinner-bell. There are plenty of rabbits, and you may 
have as many as ever you can catch ; but be sure to 
come back when you hear the bell about one o'clock.' 
'Thankee sir! Hurrah for the Lord Mayor!' and six 
hundred caps are thrown up into the sunshine. Then 
away they scamper over the blossoming fields; and such 
fun and frolic, I dare say, they never enjoyed before. 
Their friend, Mr. McGregor, was the youngest boy among 
them ; and could run faster, and laugh louder, and kick the 
football farther than any of his playfellows. And this is 
the, eminent barrister, who holds public disputes every 
Sabbath with the infidels in the park, and discourses for 
hours together to the assembled thousands on the great 
matter of their salvation. He is a lay man of the Established 
Church, always ' ready unto every r good work.' When 
such men as he, and Lord Shaftesbury, and the Bishop 
of Ripon, are seen engaging in these Christian enterprises 
with so much zeal and energy, one cannot help feeling 
that there is still salt in the church and hope for the 
nation. 

One o'clock ; the bell rings ; the table is thronged ; the 
Mayor's chaplain says grace ; lords and ladies wait upon 
the little guests ; and such a packing away of roast beef 
and plum-pudding I never saw before. I heard many a 
little rogue declare that he had never made such a dinner 
before in his life. I went around the table, talking with 
the boys. Some of them told me they had three pounds 
in the savings bank ; others six ; and one nine. After 
dinner, the Mayor and Lord Shaftesbury both addressed 
the boys, and the cheering was more vociferous than ever. 
Through his chaplain I was introduced to the Lord Mayor, 
and received an invitation to dine with the clergy in the 
mansion. More than fifty persons sat down to a sumptuous 
table. The speaking was renewed by Lord Shaftesbury 
in a noble address to the Lord Mayor. He reviewed the 
several reformatory measures instituted within the last few 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 359 

years in London, especially the Ragged-schools and the 
Shoe-blacks Societies. He stated that in the year 1851, 
forty-seven thousand cases of disorderly conduct were 
brought before the Lord Mayor : within the last twelve 
months, not more than twenty-two thousand. The Lord 
Mayor replied in a very happy manner, and we arose from 
the table refreshed in body and in soul. The boys had 
resumed their sports, and I spent the afternoon in making 
new acquaintances, and improving them, chiefly among 
the clergy of the Church of England. A Mr. Cadman, 
who is one of the most popular and useful men in London, 
and the Chaplain of the Lord Mayor, were particularly 
kind and agreeable. The reverends present seemed to be 
all of the evangelical class, and I believe there is scarcely 
a nobler body of Christian ministers in the world. The 
piety and catholicity of their spirit appeared very different 
from what is generally found among the Protestant 
Episcopal clergy of our own country. The accounts con- 
stantly heard, and the instances which I constantly saw, of 
the zeal and self-denial of some of them, made me quite 
ashamed of myself, and of many of my brethren at home. 
Depend upon it, there is a great revival going on in the 
ministry of the Establishment. They 'go into the high- 
ways and hedges ' to preach the gospel, and they preach it 
often with a refreshing unction. It is a common thing for 
a rector to preach two sermons of a Sabbath in his pulpit, 
and a third in the open air. Outdoor preaching, indeed, 
is now quite a mania in England ; and men of the 
first position in the Church have taken the field ; and the 
new Lord Bishop of London himself, who is an eminently 
evangelical man, sanctions and encourages the movement. 
It is Wesley and Whitfield over again. I repeat it : 
There is still salt in the Church, there is still hope for 
the nation ! 

At five the bell rang again ; the boys returned to the 
table for tea ; the dinner scenes, with sundry variations, were 
re-enacted ; and the setting sun found the jolly little shoe- 
blacks recounting the deeds of the day in their own humble 
abodes ; and your faithful scribe, dear reader, a better and 
happier man than when he went forth in the morning, sitting 
in an upper room, at Number Twenty, New Street, Spring 



360 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Gardens, making memoranda of his Fifth Metropolitan 
Tea-party. 

The Sixth, if possible still more interesting, was the 
' Autumn Festival of the Youns? Men's Mutual Im- 
provement Society, of the Parish of St. Jude's ;' which 
I attended by special invitation of the Rector, the Rev. 
Hugh Allen, in company with his friend Mr. Carpenter, 
who showed me many kind attentions during my sojourn 
in London. Entering a narrow court, filled with all 
sorts of people, we soon came to a very large building 
of very rough exterior, crowded to its utmost capacity. 
On the door was this advertisement : 

' ADMITTANCE : 

' Before Tea, One Shilling ; 
After Tea, Sixpence.' 

' Tickets if you please, gentlemen !' said the porter, as 
we passed. £ I'm their ticket !' cried a voice within. It 
was Hugh Allen. ' Walk in, gentlemen !' he continued 
in a rapid, nervous manner, which instantly reminded 
me of ' Father Taylor,' of Boston : ' Go up to the 
platform ; Counsellor Payne will receive you ; I'll be 
there directly.' Up to the platform we went, passing 
between long lines of tables, loaded with substantial 
luxuries. Counsellor Payne introduced us to half a dozen 
clergymen of the Establishment, and as many dissenting 
ministers, among whom was the Rev. Mr. Adams, of 
Salem Chapel, and an eloquent young man of Lady 
Huntingdon's connection. We were seated. ' See him !' 
said the Counsellor, pointing to the Rector, who, with 
his hat on, was pushing hither and thither through the 
crowd, giving orders, arranging the seats, welcoming 
every new-comer, talking like a cataract, and gesticulating 
like an Italian. ' No man in London,' rejoined Mr. 
L., 'is doing more good at the present time than that 
same Hugh Allen. Six years a^o when he came to St. 
Jude's, this court was one of the most notorious places 
in the city, and the very house in which you are now 
sitting was a distillery. The proprietor wrote him a note, 
requesting him not to organize a temperance society, or do 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 361 

anything to break up his business, as the distillery was 
his only dependence for the support of his wife and 
children. " Better your wife and children should suffer 
hunger," replied Hugh Allen, " than souls should perish 
by your trade ; I am responsible for duties, not for 
consequences : look to yourself, my friend !" He went 
to work in earnest. In three months every grog shop 
in the neighbourhood was abolished ; and in as many 
more, he had a Sunday-school in the still-house. It 
would do you good, sir, to attend one of his " Early 
Sunday Morning Breakfasts" in this room. You would 
see nearly three hundred young persons, male and female, 
sit down to eat and drink together ; and after prayer and 
some advice from their pastor, disperse to their work as 
Sunday-school teachers. Do you see that noble company 
of young men, sitting together there on the front bench ? 
There are about twenty -five, and they are all street- 
preachers ; yes, sir, what the Wesleyans call " lay helpers." 
Every Sabbath they go out into the highways and hedges, 
wherever Mr. Allen sends them ; and a good work they 
are doing, to be sure, sir ! And then he has organized 
a Shoe-blacks' brigade, two or three ragged-schools, and 
a Reformed Pickpockets' Society. There is no end, sir, 
to his activity. AVhy, sir, for the last fortnight, to my 
certain knowledge, he has preached every night ; yes, 
sir, every single night !' ' And does he write his ser- 
mons?' said I. ' Oh no,' he answered, 'he never writes 
a sermon; nor need he; his head and heart are both 
full of sermons. He would die, if he could not preach.' 

This and much more. Then comes Hugh Allen to the 
platform, throws off his hat, calls the assembly to order, 
offers an appropriate prayer, makes a brief introductory 
address, in which he talks funnily of being 'tied up,' and 
compliments the ' cleverality ' of his young men, and tells 
the audience he has ' a lion and a unicorn ' for their 
entertainment, alluding to the Counsellor and the Scribe, 
who sat on his right and left. Then he called on his 
' American friend ' for a speech ; and to keep the bashful 
young man in countenance before so large an assembly, 
shouted at the end of every sentence, ' Hear him ! Hear 
him !' Counsellor Payne, meanwhile, sat busily writing 



362 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

on the crown of his hat ; and, when I ceased, in response 
to the call of the Rev. President sprang to his feet, and 
delivered himself of the drollest harangue ever uttered by 
the drollest of orators. i I have come to this place to-night,' 
said he, ' to see — 

i I. A Preacher remarkable for four things : 

A preacher that does not mumble, 
A preacher that does not grumble. 
A preacher that does not stumble, 
A preacher both proud and humble ; 

6 II. An Association of Young Men remarkable for four 



things : 



Young men with their heads unfuddled, 
Youiig: men with their minds unmuddled, 



o 



Young men with their hearts untroubled, 
Young men with their comforts doubled.' 

These were the divisions and subdivisions of his discourse, 
the form of which he justified by the presence of such a 
number of divines. The flesh with which he covered his 
skeleton fitted the bones most admirably ; and the queer 
fantastic biped lived and glowed before us, and went 
singing and dancing through the hearts of the people, and 
jingling his eight toes in the merriest manner imaginable. 
And here is the orator's conclusion, composed while his 
6 Yankee Brother ' was speaking : 

1 Doctor Cross and Counsellor Payne, 
The one from a city across the main, 
The other of that which is England's pride, 
Are seated at good Hugh Allen's side. 

' Doctor Cross is a clever man ; 
He smiles upon every useful plan ; 
His talents, I reckon and guess, are great ; 
And he's always ready, I calculate. 

1 Counsellor Payne and Doctor Cross 
Would surely have suffered a grievous loss, 
Had they not been here to-night to see, 
St. Jude's young men's " cleverality.'''' 

' Doctor Cross and Counsellor Payne 
Will be happy some day to come again ; 
And see Hugh Allen, and cheer him on, 
And add to the praise he has rightly won. 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PARTIES. 363 

' Counsellor Payne and Doctor Cross 
Would the claims of the treasurer now endorse ; 
And bid you give him the aid he needs, 
And follow the course he so nobly leads. 

* Doctor Cross and Counsellor Payne 
Are both " tied up " to a little strain ; . 

For time is short, and they can but say, 
Success to friends who are here to-day ! 

1 Success to the President, brave and bold ! 
Success to the Officers, new and old ! 
Success to the Young Men, good and true ! 
And success to the 'fair Young Women too !' 

The above is verbatim et literatim, from a copy sent me 
the next day by the orator, upon ray solicitation. I mention 
these things im illustration of the freedom of the platform 
among our British brethren. In the pulpit, such is my 
opinion, we excel them ; but on occasions like these, they 
are unquestionably our superiors. They do not make 
speeches : they speak. 

Mr. Payne was followed by several clergymen ; and the 
clergymen by several of the young men of the society ; and 
the young men, by chickens, and turkeys, and lobsters, and 
oysters, and salads, and puddings, and jellies, and custards, 
and ice-creams, and all manner of fruits, and whatsoever 
edih'eth the physical man ; and then, with a hymn, a prayer, 
and a benediction, we parted, to meet again, I hope, at ' the 
supper of the Lamb !' 

My next Tea-party was a dinner at the Old Bailey, with 
the judges and advocates, the sheriff and under-sheriffs, the 
Rev, Ordinary of Newgate, and several other persons of 
distinction, after sitting some hours in the court, and 
wandering through the cells of the prison. I dismiss this 
occasion with the following memoranda : 

1. We sat nearly four hours at the table. 

2. Among so many great men, I saw very little wit or 
wisdom. 

3. The five clergymen present appeared to drink as much 
wine as any other five of the company. 

4. One of them pronounced sudden conversion an ab- 
surdity, and the joy of faith in the hour of death nothing 
but a delirium. 



364 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

5. I could not help contrasting this scene with what I 
had witnessed at the Lord Mayor's table at Wanstead 
Park, and more than once I wished myself again at Hugh 
Allen's Distillery. 

I will mention but one Tea- Party more — a supper at 
the house of my excellent forty -ninth cousin, in honour of 
his forty-sixth birthday, which was celebrated by the 
family, with a goodly concourse of kinsfolk, after the 
manner of the good old times. There was present an 
interesting young man, a licentiate in Mr. Spurgeon's 
church, who gave me, among others, the following anec- 
dote of that popular young minister: — 

Mr. Spurgeon was invited by a wealthy gentleman in 
the country, some forty miles from London, to come to his 
place and preach. Arriving there, he found a huge tent 
erected in the park, with bales of hay arranged tier above 
tier for seats, a pile of bales for a pulpit, and three or four 
thousand people waiting to hear him. He preached, and 
the people thought they had never heard such preaching 
before. The service over, he retired to the gentleman's 
bouse to dine, accompanied by several ministers of his own 
order, and followed by hundreds of his hearers. The con- 
versation at table, in which the young preacher took the 
lead, was on the sin of needless self-indulgence, and the 
Christian obligation of self-denial. After dinner, an old 
minister, whose learning was rather limited, pulled out his 
pipe, seemed anxious to light it, but evidently felt some- 
what embarrassed from the preceding conversation. He 
looked at his pipe, then at the fire, and then at Mr. Spur- 
geon. Again he looked at Spurgeon, at the fire, at the 
pipe. At length he said, ' Brother Spurgeon, do you think 
it would be wrong* for me to smoke?' 'Have you any 
Scripture to justify the practice?' asked the preacher. 
1 Well, I think I have,' added the venerable father in 
Israel. ' I shall be glad to hear what it is,' rejoined 
Mr. Spurgeon, ' Well, brother, David was certainly a 
smoker.' 'Ah, how do you make that out?' ' Well, he 
speaks, you know, in one of the psalms, of going through 
the valley of Bacca {Baca) ; and I make no doubt that 
was a private plantation for his own particular use.' Spur- 
geon cast a funny side-glance towards his host ; and keep- 



METROPOLITAN TEA-PAET1ES. 365 

ins: the serious half of his countenance towards the old 
man, replied gravely, 'You can smoke, Father Spike- 
nard.'* 

* If this anecdote was correctly given to our traveller, it was a 
pity to record it. If not true it is equally a pity to perpetuate it. 
Such buffoonery impairs a preacher's usefulness and injures re- 
ligion. — Ed. 



( 366 ) 






CHAPTER XXXIV. 

PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 

Croly — Melvill — Hamilton — Sketch of the late Edward Irving — 
Critical Estimate of ' The Modern Whitfield.' 

Let arms revere the robe — the warrior's laurel 
Yield to the palm of eloquence ! Cicero. 

Who that has read Salathiel has not desired to hear Dr. 
Croly? For magnificent rhetoric and powerful description, 
I scarcely know the equal of that book in the English 
language. When a youth, I wondered and wept over its 
glowing pages ; and I have since read it repeatedly, with 
ever-increasing admiration and delight. A few years ago, 
meeting with a stray volume of the author's sermons, I 
seized it with avidity , expecting a rare treat of eloquence. 
What a disappointment ! There was Croly's diction, and 
something of Croly's imagery ; but an historical romance 
and an evangelical sermon, I soon found, might be two 
very different things ; and these discourses proved meagre 
in thought, defective in logic, exceedingly discursive in 
treatment, and sadly wanting in the most important ele- 
ments of pulpit composition. While in London, I had the 
opportunity of listening to their author. It was in his own 
church — St. Stephen's, Walbrook ; and on an interesting 
occasion — a collection for a valuable Christian charity. Of 
course, the preacher did his best ; and the sermon, I think, 
was equal to any that I have read from his pen ; but it 
lacked both unity of method and compactness of material, 
and was quite as well suited to the lecture-room as to the 
house of God. Dr. Croly is an aged man, of large stature 
and impressive appearance. His delivery is rapid, earnest, 
emphatic. His right arm is constantly in violent motion, 
as if he were smiting the anvil. His voice is thick and 
heavy, his enunciation somewhat indistinct — the effect, I 
am informed, of a partial paralysis of the organs of speech 
which he experienced a few years ago. He reads his 
discourses rather closely ; but on this occasion he concluded 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 367 

with a powerful extempore appeal in behalf of the charity 
which he advocated. His church is large, but sparsely 
seated ; though the congregation is quite select, composed 
in great part of the more intellectual class of the London 
gentry. They use a hymn-book of their pastor's own com- 
pilation, containing many of his own compositions, which 
are worthy of his literary fame, but perhaps, like his 
discourses, wanting in evangelical unction. It seems strange 
to many that such a man as Dr. Croly should have so little 
influence in the Church — scarcely any, indeed, beyond the 
walls of St. Stephen's. The fact is probably to be attributed 
to this great defect in his ministry. He is not a spiritual 
preacher. He is not a zealous worker. He never appears 
upon the platform in behalf of any of the great Christian 
enterprises of the metropolis, and seems to have little 
sympathy with those who are engaged in their promotion. 
He is content to move in his own parish, and let the rest of 
London, and of the world, take care of themselves. Even 
at home, his labours are confined almost entirely to the 
pulpit and the pen. In short, he is too much like the 
present scribe to be a, very useful minister of the gospel . 

The greatest man in the London pulpit, unquestionably— 
and, in my opinion, the finest i sermonizer ' in England — is 
the Rev. Henry Melvill, B.D. Mr. Melvill is now one of 
the canons of Saint Paul's. What a race I have had after 
him, to be sure — last Christmas, and since my return from 
the continent — first to Poultry Chapel, then to the Tower, 
and finally to Saint Paul's — inquiring of clergymen and 
vergers, policemen and publishers, churchmen and dis- 
senters, everybody that was likely to know anything 
of the object of my quest ! I have now heard him three 
times in the great cathedral. What a pity so vast and 
fine a structure should have such inadequate accommo- 
dation for preaching ! The pulpit is in the choir, which 
twelve hundred hearers will crowd to its utmost capacity, 
galleries and all. So it is in Westminster Abbey, and in 
all the English cathedrals : not in those of Italy, for the 
children of His Holiness are ' wiser in their generation ' 
than the children of Her Majesty's Church.* The first 

* Has the great Kepublic no church ? — Ed. 



368 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Sabbath, I went half an hour before the service ; and 
found the steps thronged, and the very street blockaded, 
by hundreds of people, waiting for the opening of the door ; 
and when it was opened, there was a frightful rush — a 
perfect cataract of humanity ; and in one minute every seat 
was occupied, except the stalls, which were locked, in 
reserve for the choristers and distinguished personages ; 
and belonging to neither class, I had the utmost difficulty 
in securing room even to stand within hearing distance of 
the pulpit. The second Sabbath, the press was still greater ; 
but through the kindness of the Rev. Mr. B., who sent a 
note to the verger to put me in his stall, I had a comfortable 
seat, and a fine opportunity of seeing and hearing the 
preacher. The third Sabbath, I stood through the whole 
service, something more than two hours ; and had Melvill 
continued preaching, I would gladly have stood two hours 
longer. It was a spiritual treat, such as I have seldom 
enjoyed. As we left the church, a distinguished clergyman 
remarked to me : ; You are very fortunate, to-day, sir : 
you have heard Melvill at his best.' The text was the 
words of Jude : ' And of some have compassion, making a 
difference ; and others save with fear, pulling them out of 
the fire ; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.' 
I need not give you a synopsis : you can imagine how 
Melvill would preach from such a text. It was a solid 
mass of thought, squared by the severest logic, and adorned 
with the noblest rhetoric. It was highly evangelical, too ; 
full of the veiy essence of the gospel. But a delivery so 
peculiar, who shall describe? It is wholly unimaginable. 
The war-steed rushing to the charge — the avalanche thun- 
dering down the mountain — the burning ship flying before 
the tempest — are the best similitudes of his splendid im- 
petuosity and power. His voice is clear, but not musical ; 
his enunciation, very distinct and emphatic ; his intonations 
and inflections, quite ludicrous to a stranger. Now you 
have the tone and cadence of rapid, earnest conversation; 
then the speaker drops into a lower key, husky and guttural, 
and runs on in a perfect monotone for five minutes or more, 
till you imagine him quite exhausted for want of breath ; 
when suddenly he vaults into the lofty sentence which is to 
conclude the paragraph; and with a mighty '0!' in the 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 369 

middle, and a spasmodic jerk of the head at the end, he 
flings out the words in a half-scream, which well-nigh 
electrifies the audience. The Rev. Dr. Ryerson, of Canada, 
who was present the last Sabbath, assured me that he was 
much more vehement twenty years ago ; and that there is 
scarcely anything now, in voice or manner, to remind one 
of the former Melvill. Action, strictly speaking, he has 
none. He stands as erect and motionless as the Nelson 
monument, till he comes to the close of an argument ; 
when he slightly elevates his right hand, and gives a nod, 
which threatens the dislocation of his neck. Of slight 
stature, thin visage, dark complexion, keen black eyes, 
finely moulded features, and bushy hair as white as wool, 
he is a man of imposing mien ; but not half so majestic in 
the pulpit as Dr. McNeile, nor half so graceful as Dr. 
Gumming. Spurgeon attracts the mob ; Melvill draws 
the intellect of London. The ' Penny Pulpit,' for more than 
twenty years, has published more of his sermons than of any 
other living man's, and annually a large volume of them is 
bound up for the market. His popularity, however, is 
confined to the pulpit and the manuscript. He makes no 
platform speeches, nor ever ventures an extemporaneous 
paragraph ; but it must not be denied that he is pretty tho- 
roughly imbued with the sacramentarian theology ; and in 
one of the sermons to which I listened, he taught most dis- 
tinctly and earnestly the doctrine of baptismal regenera- 
tion — that whenever the water of baptism is sprinkled by a 
consecrated hand upon a child, that child is regenerated, and 
needs but abide in the grace received, in order to eternal sal- 
vation. Is this the effect of ecclesiastical promotion ? Than 
this of baptismal regeneration, it seems to me, there is no 
greater folly taught at Rome. If man only fainted in the 
fall, a little sprinkled water might revive him; but if 
he is really ' dead in trespasses and sins,' what but the 
Holy Spirit can restore the life which he originally 
inspired ? 

To hear Dr. James Hamilton I had nearly as much 
trouble as I had to hear Mr. Melvill. I went one Sunday 
to Regent Square, but the Doctor was in Scotland ; and his 
flock was fed by another, with theological whey, thickened 

2 B 



370 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

with Thames water.* I went again, but he had not yet 
returned, and we were treated to a repast of poppies and 
sun-dried cabbage-leaves. The third time, however, I was 
successful ; and well repaid, I assure you, for my perseve- 
rance and former disappointments. The sermon was full of 
fine thought, adorned with the most beautiful illustrations, 
and rich in all the attributes of a fervid eloquence. Yet 
Mr. Brock — a Baptist minister, whom I heard in the 
evening of the same day — with not a tithe of his talent, 
has twice as large a congregation. The reason lies in the 
Doctor's delivery. His voice is good enough, but unskil- 
fully managed ; and he speaks with a strong Scotch accent, 
not very agreeable to an English ear. He has not much 
action, and what he has is far from being graceful. He is 
very earnest, however ; preaches from ample notes, but 
does not read his sermons ; and to an intelligent and cul- 
tivated audience, such as his appears to be, his ministry 
must be both interesting and useful. He belongs to the 
Free Church. The house in which he preaches — a very 
large and fine one — was built for poor Irving, and is that 
in which was first manifested the modern ' gift of tongues.' 
From that pulpit, just as it now stands, thirty years ago, 
rolled the most majestic periods that ever charmed the ear 
of London. 

What history of a single man is fraught with more of 
melancholy interest than that of this great Christian 
orator ? To a princely person he added a most princely 
mind, well furnished with knowledge, and trained by 
severest study. But society — nay, even the Church, the 
most perfect form of human society — does not afford ' every 
man a place according to his faculty.'' Few ever aspired 
to the pulpit under greater discouragements than Edward 
Irving. He was nearly thirty before he found employ- 
ment as a preacher. He had preached occasionally, but 
generally so much to the discontent of his hearers, that 
they gave him no second invitation. He was dowered with 
the double curse of originality and independence. Con- 
scious of a Divine call, he determined to preach the gospel ; 
and despairing of a hearing at home, he resolved on a 

* This is a rather exaggerated account. — Ed. 






PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 371 

mission to the heathen. Persia was the chosen scene of 
his voluntary exile and evangelical labours. He would 
rely on no patronage but Heaven's, and seek no resources 
but such as Providence might furnish. Preparatory to his 
purpose, he buried himself more deeply than ever with 
books. c Rejected by the living,' says he, ' I communed 
with the dead.' 

At this juncture he was invited to preach for Dr. 
Andrew Thompson, in Edinburgh. He was informed that 
Dr. Chalmers, who wanted an assistant, would be one of 
his hearers. Doubtless he did his best that day ; but no 
message came from the Glasgow orator. After waiting, 
in feverish anxiety, more than a fortnight, he stepped on 
board a steamer, not knowing its destination, to go where- 
ever it might chance to bear him. He was landed at 
Belfast, and went wandering among the peasantry in the 
north of Ireland. Here a letter overtook him from Dr. 
Chalmers, inviting him immediately to Glasgow. He 
consented to c make trial of his gifts,' saying to his illus- 
trious patron, ' If your people bear with my preaching, 
they will be the first.' They did bear with it, and Irving 
became Assistant-Minister of Saint John's. Three years 
he laboured in connection with the most eloquent man in 
the world. But what star could shine so near the sun ? 
Discouraged with his small success, he resolved again on 
the work of a foreign missionary, and fixed on Jamaica as 
his future home. 

One morning, as he sat solitary and sorrowful in his 
room, revolving this matter in his mind, a messenger from 
London entered, with an invitation to the vacant Caledo- 
nian church, in Cross Street, Hatton Garden. He came, 
and found the ' mere remnant of a wasted congregation,' 
disheartened by long adversity. He entered upon his new 
ministry with zeal and energy. In a very short time, his 
preaching excited an unprecedented interest in the metro- 
polis, described by one of the reviewers as ' the most ex- 
traordinary and extensive infatuation that ever seized upon 
a community calling itself intelligent.' During the first 
quarter, the seatholders increased from fifty to five hundred. 
A little later, and the rank and intellect of the land 
thronged his sanctuary. The occasional sermons of Dr. 



372 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Chalmers and Robert Hall in London did not attract such 
crowds as now pressed to Edward Irving's weekly services. 
The Duke of York repeated his visit, and carried with him 
other members of the royal family. Brougham took Mack- 
intosh ; and Mackintosh, by repeating at a dinner-table a 
beautiful sentence he had heard from Irving in prayer, 
drew Canning. Noble lords and ladies, noted wits and 
beauties, popular actors and actresses, reverend bishops and 
men of learning, with a mixed multitude of all classes, 
besieged the doors, and stood jammed together in the aisles. 
Cross Street became as fashionable as Drury Lane, and 
Edward Irving as much the rage as ever Kemble or Kean. 
To restrain the crowd and prevent casualties, strangers 
were admitted by ticket, the seatholders entered by a side 
door, and the preacher often came through a window in 
the rear, and walked up the pulpit stairs covered with 
ladies of rank and wealth. 

' What went thev out to see ? a man clothed with soft 
raiment ?' Edward Irving was no velvet-mouthed court- 
chaplain — no florid declaimer on virtue — no flatterer of 
aristocracy or of intellect. Never were the pretensions of 
rank more ruthlessly spurned — never were the vices of the 
rich more sternly denounced — never was the independence 
of the pulpit more bravely vindicated — than when princes 
and scholars, statesmen and ecclesiastics, swelled his audi- 
ence. He drew them into comparison with the great and 
good of other times— with sages and heroes, prophets and 
martyrs, patriots and reformers ; and dwelt with earnest 
remonstrance on the degeneracy of modern society — the 
degeneracy of morals, religion, literature, and whatever 
affects the well-being of man. Yet none had ever a deeper 
sympathy than he with the sorrows and degradations of his 
race, or a kindlier compassion for their manifold frailties 
and follies. With all his severity he mingled much of 
tenderness. He discoursed of the fatherhood of God, and 
the filial outgoings of the human heart. He dwelt more 
upon duties than doctrines, and preferred practical truths 
to theological subtleties. No preacher, in any age, was 
ever more practical. Large and lofty was his idea of the 
Christian ministry. He thought that, while it deals with 
the highest of human interests, it should comprehend the 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 373 

whole field of human faculty and experience. To tell men 
plainly of their duties and delinquencies in all the relations 
of life, he deemed the greatest favour he could do them. 
Pride, avarice, unsanctified ambition, political expediency, 
and perverted literature, he rebuked with the tone of a 
prophet. He seems to have had the conviction of a per- 
sonal call to this special work, and nobly did he fulfil his 
vocation. Mr. Spurgeon's mission is to the masses: 
Irving's was to the intellect and aristocracy of London. 
His first book drew all the critics like bloodhounds after 
him. Dailies, weeklies, monthlies, and quarterlies, fell 
fiercely upon their prey ; and furious pamphleteers came in 
armies to their aid. Extracts from the i Orations ' appeared 
side by side with reports of parliamentary proceedings, 
despatches from the seat of war, or a canto from Byron's 
last — worst — poem, then just issued from the press. His 
logic, his rhetoric, and his theology were alike assailed. 
The Times pronounced him a ' meteor ' and a ' bubble.' The 
Pulpit animadverted severely upon his doctrine. The 
Quarterly denounced his ' Babylonish diction.' The John 
Bull, Cobbett's Register, and several other publications, 
heaped upon him unmeasured vituperation and abuse. On 
the other hand, the New Times, the Morning Chronicle, 
the Examiner, the Westminster, and a host of pamphlets 
were extravagant in eulogy of his eloquence. Ail this but 
heightened the popularity of the preacher. Every great 
charity solicited his advocacy. His occasional discourses 
were published ; some of them expanded into ponderous 
volumes. Frequently he preached three hours without a 
pause, and seldom drew to a conclusion without reserving 
for some future occasion a topic or two started by the way. 
His physical strength seemed inexhaustible, and his mind 
was one of unparalleled fertility. Meanwhile, the church 
at Hatton Garden becoming too strait for the audience, 
this new and spacious one was erected. 

About this time appeared some seeds and signs of change, 
to which his intercourse with Coleridge somewhat contri- 
buted. Several interviews with Hartley Frere, Esq., led 
to the adoption of Mede's system of prophetic interpreta- 
tion, and the premillennial doctrine of the second advent. 
The immediate product was ' Babylon and Infidelily Fore- 



374 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

doomed of God,' a nobler volume than which, on prophecy, 
lias not appeared in the English tongue. Then came the 
famous Conference of Prophetic Inquiry, at Albury Park, 
followed by endless discourses on prophetic themes, and 
endless controversies about prophetic applications. Irving 
goes to Edinburgh to lecture on the Revelation ; and at 
five in the morning, for twelve days in succession, the 
largest church of the metropolis is overcrowded to hear 
him ; and on one occasion, an accident proves fatal to 
twenty-six persons, and seriously injures more than a hun- 
dred. ' I have no hesitation,' writes Dr. Chalmers, c in 
saying that it is quite woeful. There is power, and richness, 
and gleams of exquisite beauty; but withal, a mysticism 
and extreme allegorization, which must be pernicious to 
the general cause.' His Homilies on Baptism enunciated 
a new doctrine in relation to that sacrament — an anticipa- 
tion of Oxfordism. His Discourses on the Mutual Re- 
sponsibility of Church and State proved still more obnox- 
ious to many of his brethren. On all sides he was assailed 
with the cry of ' Heretic V and within the space of five 
years, to use his own words, he was ' set down as having 
boxed the whole compass of heresy.' But the great error 
charged against him was his doctrine of the sinful huma- 
nity of the Redeemer. He held that Christ assumed our 
fallen nature, with all its liabilities and temptations to 
evil ; and was preserved from actual sin only by the in- 
dwelling power of the Godhead. Then came ' the last and 
saddest act of this eventful history.' Irving had taught 
his congregation that the miraculous gifts of the Holy 
Ghost were intended to be the perpetual endowment of the 
Church, and were discontinued only because of her un- 
faithfulness. Despairing of the world's conversion by the 
preaching of the gospel, and looking for supernatural 
manifestations as the prelude of the glorious advent of our 
Lord, they began more earnestly to pray for the restora- 
tion of these * powers of the world to come.' One and 
another soon began prophesying and speaking in unknown 
tongues. Mr. Irving instituted an examination into 
these extraordinary phenomena, satisfied himself of their 
genuineness, and 6 did exceedingly rejoice that the bridal 
attire and jewels of the Church had been found again.' 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 375 

His trustees, however, seem to have been less satisfied with 
the affair. They preferred a charge of irregularity against 
him, and he was arraigned before the Scottish Presbytery 
in London. His defence, in two speeches, each about four 
hours long, was one of the noblest ever uttered, and pro- 
bably the masterpiece of his own masterly eloquence. He 
warned his brethren, that if they cast him and his flock out 
of the church which had been built for him, and very much 
upon the credit of his own name, God would certainly 
punish them in the same manner by those who had the 
secular charge of their churches. This warning has lately 
been regarded by many as a prophecy. I cannot think 
that Edward Irving was a prophet. He may have had a sa- 
gacious foresight of the secessions from the Scottish Church, 
and what he dimly foresaw he boldly foretold. His remem- 
bered words must have come home to some of them with 
signal emphasis, when so many of their number went 
out of their sanctuaries, and the very house from which 
they had ejected their illustrious brother passed over to the 
communion of the great secession. ' I tell you,' he ex~ 
claimed, ' your vine shall be withered ; I tell you, your 
cisterns shall be dried up ; I tell you, ye shall have no 
pasture for your flocks ; I tell you, your flocks shall pine 
away and die !' The remonstrance was vain. They cast 
him forth out of the church in which, as he touchingly 
said, his babes were buried. 

A year after this, he stood at the bar of the Presbytery 
of his native town — the Presbytery from which he had 
received ordination — to answer to a charge of heresy con- 
cerning the human nature of our Lord. Thousands 
flocked to the trial of their illustrious countryman. Again 
he spoke two full hours, with amazing eloquence ; and the 
hearts of the multitude were moved by his speech, ' as the 
trees of the wood are moved by the wind ;' but though the 
popular sympathy was with him, his brethren cut him off 
from their connection, and deposed him from the Christian 
ministry. He remained some weeks in Scotland, preaching 
daily, and four times a day, to unprecedented crowds in the 
open air: and in all the localities which he visited, even 
now, after the lapse of twenty-five years, his predictions 
are remembered, his denunciations are repeated, above all 



376 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

his loving words are cherished ; and the ploughman still 
stops in his furrow to point out to the traveller the spot 
where he heard ' Dr. Irving ' preach from a cart, and tell 
how he shook his little Bible at the kirk, and how the 
people wept at his departure, for there was not the like of 
him in all the land. 

He returned to resume his labours in London. Excluded 
from the "pulpit which had been urged on his acceptance, 
he betook himself now, as he had told the Presbytery he 
would, ' to the open places about the city.' Thousands 
followed him to the field, the park, the public square ; and 
the places where he stood were made memorable by his 
appeals. But the shocks which he had suffered were too 
much even for Edward Irving. The strong man bowed 
beneath his weight of sorrow. In the sick-chamber he 
pined with a broken heart. Two years after his deposal, 
he died at Glasgow. His last words were : 6 Living or 
dying, I am the Lord's.' In the crypt of the Glasgow ca- 
thedral he lies, awaiting c the resurrection of the just/ of 
which he discoursed while living as perhaps no other man 
since the apostles ever discoursed before ! 

While in London, I heard Mr. Spurgeon twice in the 
Great New Park Street Chapel, twice in the immense 
Music Hall at Surrey Gardens, and once on the day of the 
National Fast in the Crystal Palace, when he preached to 
about twenty thousand people;* and though I have said 
something of him, I beg leave here to devote a few pages 
to a more critical examination of his eloquence and its 
wonderful effects. 

Mr, Spurgeon 's popularity is as great as ever. Envy 
and bigotry from the beginning spoke of him as a meteor — 
a will-o'-the-wisp — stared at by the multitude, but soon 
to explode and disappear. But all these prophecies have 
failed, and Mr. Spurgeon never had a larger audience than 
he has now. Perhaps no man ever had a firmer hold upon 
the public heart of London than Mr. Spurgeon has at this 
moment; and envy and bigotry may frown, and sneer, and 
criticise, and calumniate ; but this young man, with all 
his faults — and no just critic will deny him many of them — 

* Not more than a third of this number heard him. — Ed. 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES. . 377 

with God to help as hitheto he manifestly has helped him, 
will outlive the satires of his enemies, and shine among 
those who have turned many to righteousness, when their 
lamp has gone out in darkness. 

But what is the secret of his success ? Whence his great 
popularity ? Is there anything peculiar in the man him- 
self, in his manner, or his doctrines, or the circumstances of 
his ministry ? I will endeavour to answer these questions. 

Mr. Spurgeon is certainly not indebted for his popu- 
larity to his origin, for he is of humble birth ; nor to the 
influence of his sect, for the Anabaptists are among the 
least esteemed of all the dissenting bodies in England. 
Nor is it to be ascribed to a fine person or agreeable 
manners ; for he is a great, fat, rotund, overgrown boy, 
awkward in action, unhandsome in features, and scarcely 
tidy in dress ; a man whom no lady would love at sight ; 
more likely to be taken for a butcher than a preacher; ap- 
parently feasting more on roast beef and plum-pudding 
than on ' the bread that cometh down from heaven.' Nor 
does he show a high degree of mental culture, or anything 
like refinement of taste ; for his mind has manifestly never 
been closely schooled in metaphysical or dialectic studies, 
and frequently he is offensively coarse and vulgar in his style. 
Nor is his logic or his rhetoric of a superior character ; for of 
the former he has, properly speaking, little or none, and the 
latter is as full of faults as it is of figures. Nor is he 
guilty of any unusual originality, profundity, or brilliancy 
of thought ; for he never utters anything new, or anything 
remarkably striking. Nor has he a very charming voice ; 
for though it is clear and strong, it is neither varied nor 
musical, having great volume but little compass — not at all 
what you would call an oratorical voice — monotonous and 
inflexible, incapable alike of majesty and of tenderness. 
Nor is it fine action : for in this department he is greatly 
inferior to many whom 1 know in the American pulpit who 
have never attained to a tenth part ot his celebrity ; and 
must have been vastly excelled by George Whitfield and 
Edward Irving, with both of whom he has so often been 
compared by an undiscriminating press. Not in any nor 
in all of these lies the power of Mr. Spurgeon ; but it does 
lie, if I mistake not, in the following facts : — ■ 



378 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

1. He is quite natural. — In the pulpit he seems per- 
fectly at home, and fears none but God. Free from all 
embarrassment of timidity, and entirely self-possessed, he 
talks to his hearers like a friend. Even in his most im- 
passioned utterances, there is no pulpit tone, no clerical 
mannerism, nothing that you might not look for in the 
secular orator, or the scientific lecturer. 

2. He is very simple. — -He says nothing that the 
youngest and most illiterate of his hearers cannot perfectly 
understand. His languge is good idiomatic Saxon. There 
are no Latinisms, no Germanisms, no long and difficult 
words, no tangled and high-pressure sentences — only such 
as may instantly be comprehended by the boot-black and 
the newsboy. He never aims at ornament, nor uses two 
words where one will answer. In this respect he resembles 
Wesley and Whitfield. 

3. He is highly dramatic. — Everything lives, moves, 
and speaks in his sermons. The whole discourse, indeed, 
is only a series of pictures, brought vividly before the au- 
dience. There are no cold and dry abstractions. Every 
truth is clothed with life and power. Metaphors and 
similes crowd upon one another as thick as Jeremy Taylor's 
or Edward Irving's ; though not as graceful as the former, 
nor as gorgeous as the latter. But his chief forte is the 
apostrophe, in the use of which certainly he has seldom 
been excelled. His dramatic power, though inferior un- 
doubtedly to Whitfield's or Irving's, is confessedly very 
great. 

4. He is manifestly in earnest. — No man perhaps was 
ever more so. He seems to put his whole soul into every 
sermon. He speaks as if he stood with his audience upon 
a trembling point between heaven and hell. His great desire 
evidently is to clo God's work well, and save as many souls as 
he can. Hence that directness of application, that fervid 
hortatory style, which rivets the attention, forces home the 
truth, and makes every hearer feel himself personally ad- 
dressed by the preacher. Hence al^o that boldness and 
fidelity which rebukes sin in high places, and speaks to 
6 my noble lords and ladies ' as plainly as to the cab-driver 
and the kitchen-maid. 

5. He preaches the doctrines of the gospel. — Human de- 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES, 379 

pravity, Christ crucified, justification by faith, spiritual 
regeneration, and judgment to come, are Ids constant 
themes. It is the good old gospel, and nothing new, that 
he keeps before the people. I do not say, for I do not 
think, that he preaches this good old gospel in the very 
best form. All wheat hag chaff. Mr. Spurgeon preaches 
Calvinism gone to seed. But among the chaff there is so 
much wheat, that hungry souls cannot fail of nourishment 
under his ministry. In short, although he preaches Calvinism 
in a form which would be offensive to nine-tenths of the 
Calvinists of Christendom, he preaches Arminianism very 
much more. He is theoretically a Calvinist, but practi- 
cally an Arminian. He has a Calvinistic head, but an Ar- 
minian heart ; and his heart is so much greater than his 
head that it always carries the day. He invariably tells 
the sinner that he can do nothing, and must wait for God 
to do all ; but then he falls to and urges him with such 
irresistible energy to immediate repentance and faith in 
Christ, that the poor man fortunately forgets the former 
statement, and is carried captive by the preacher's impe- 
tuous exhortation. Thus Mr. Spurgeon is constantly con- 
tradicting himself in the most remarkable manner; and it 
seems strange to me that every hearer does not see the in- 
compatibility of his theory and his practice.* In one of 
the sermons to which I listened, after having stated the 
doctrine of predestination and election in the strongest 
possible form, he exhorted his hearers with a most genial 
w r armth to turn immediately to God ; when all at once he 
seemed to recollect himself, but the heart still carried it 
over the head, and he exclaimed : ' You may accuse me of 
preaching Arminianism : I care not — it is what I love 
to preach, and am bound to preach, and will, by the help 
of God V and still he went on with greater fervour than 
ever. 

6. But the best of all is, God is tcith him. — Who can 
doubt it? This is the chief reason of his success. It is not 
by might nor by power, but by the Spirit of the Lord. 
Mr. Spurgeon is a sincere and simple-hearted man, deeply 
concerned for the salvation of his fellow-men, and God is 
owning and blessing his labours. And why not ? If he 

* The apostles preached very much in the same way. — En. 



380 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

scatters some tares, he scatters also, and much more plenti- 
fully, ' the good seed of the kingdom.' If he builds with 
4 wood, hay, stubble,' he yet builds upon the true founda- 
tion, 'which is Christ Jesus;' and 'gold, silver, and 
precious stones' adorn the superstructure. Was not the 
Saviour's immediate harbinger a, rough man of the desert? 
c Not many wise, noble, mighty are called.' Is it not now 
in this respect much as in the days of Paul ? How many 
such instances are recorded in the annals of Methodism ! 
God sends by whom he will, and often honours his truth 
with a blessing, though it be mixed with error. Amen ; 
and let him be anathema who dares to call the Divine 
Wisdom to account for such disorderly proceedings ! 
Away with your silly cant about pulpit propriety and re- 
finement ! Away with your bigoted formalism, which 
would hinder the free course of the gospel ! I was speak- 
ing of Dr. McNeile in Italy, when an Englishman ex- 
claimed. ' But he is a firebrand in the Church !' This is 
what the Church needs : would to God there were more 
such ! The Church must be set on fire, no matter who 
bears the torch, or in what manner ! Thank God, Mr. 
Spurgeon,with allhisfaults,has done a great work in London; 
and the indirect result, perhaps, is the greater part of the 
good. Who has not heard of the current series of discourses 
to the poor in Exeter Hall ? I listened to one of them, by the 
Rev. Hugh Stowell. The immense room was crow r ded to 
its utmost capacity — not less than six thousand hearers :* 
while the rev. gentleman was delivering, without notes, 
one of the most eloquent and fervent appeals for God I 
ever heard, a city missionary of the Establishment was 
holding forth in the street to the crowd that could not effect 
an entrance. All this, and much more of the same sort, has 
the hearty concurrence and sanction of the Bishop of London. 
Who has waked up this feeling among the clergy ? They 
have seen what crowds are following Mr. Spurgeon, and they 
cannot consent to be out done by the Dissenters ; and, some 
from fear, and some from shame, and some from the love of 
souls, glad of the occasion and the opportunity, they are 

* Great mistakes are made about the numbers present in 
such places. The Surrey Music Hall may hold 5000, Exeter Hall 
3000.— Ed. 



PULPIT CELEBRITIES. 381 

putting forth their might in this holy work ; and now, 
blessed be God ! again may it be said in London, ' The poor 
have the gospel preached to them. 5 And the flame which 
these 'firebrands' have kindled is spreading over the king- 
dom, and hundreds of sermons are preached every Lord's 
day in the open air. I spent a Sabbath in Clifton, the beau- 
tiful suburb of Bristol. In the morning I heard a delight- 
ful extempore sermon from the Rev. Mr. Brock, of Christ 
Church. In the afternoon, passing across Durdham Down, 
I found the same gentleman preaching without his gown 
to an immense crowd of people, under a cluster of elms. 
Go on, Mr. Spurgeon, and don't be afraid of mingling too 
many Arminian appeals with your Calvinistic dogmas ! 
You are doing a good work ; and God prosper your 
ministry ! 



( 382 ) 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

PLEASANT VARIETIES. 

The Browns — Kichmond Hill — Thomson — Bushy Park — Hampton 
Court — Cardinal Wolsey — Koyal Eesidents — Varieties — Great 
Western Railway — Official Dignity — Clevedon — Myrtle Cottage 
— Promenade and Prospect — Clevedon Court — Wrington — Wes- 
ton super Mare — Interesting Antiquities. 

Among the many interesting people with whom I became 
acquainted through the kindness of Dr. and Mrs. Cross, 
were Mr. and Mrs. Brown, of Wimbledon Park, about 
eight miles from London. Having spent a delightful after- 
noon at their charming residence, we made an engagement 
for a second visit, with an excursion to Hampton Court. 
The next week we enjoyed that promised pleasure, and 
here is a skeleton-history of the day. 

Never blessed the metropolis a more beautiful morning. 
No fog enveloped the towers and domes of the city ; and as 
we rushed along the South-western .Railway, the bright 
sunshine and the balmy wind, with the rich tints of the 
autumn foliage, brought back sweet visions of the fair 
Salernian shores. 

At Putney, Mr. Brown met us, with two carriages, 
ready to devote the day to the gratification of his guests. 
We were soon en route for the royal seat, over Putney 
Heath and Wimbledon Common, past many a charming 
villa, and among the rest the stately mansion of the Duchess 
of Gloucester. Then we traversed the breadth of Rich- 
mond Park — eight miles from gate to gate, twenty -four in 
circuit ; and whole herds of young deer bounded off to the 
right and the left as we approached, while their more 
experienced sires and dams stood and gazed at us without 
fear, or lay quietly upon the soft grass. Attaining the 
summit of Richmond Hill, we enjoyed a coup d'ceil scarcely 
surpassed in Europe. To the south and east spread the 
vast down, with here and there a windmill swinging its 
huge arms in the air, and environed on all sides with the 






PLEASANT VARIETIES. 383 

splendid country seats of the London gentry. To the 
north-east, ten miles distant, Westminster Abbey, the 
Victoria Tower, the dome of Saint Paul's, and a whole 
forest of church steeples, rose through the purple mist, like 
a fleet at sea. Still more remote, Harrow on the Hill in 
the north, and Windsor Castle in the north-west, stood out 
in clear relief against the horizon. At our feet, through 
as fine a landscape as ever blessed the vision of man, flowed 
the Thames, encompassing many a green island, w r ith a 
young steamer in the distance, and scores of white swans 
floating gracefully upon its bosom. On the brow of the 
hill, overlooking a sweet vale, in which a village reposed^ 
we found the following lines upon a board, hung upon an 
elm : — 

LINES ON JAMES THOMSON, 

The Poet of Nature. 

Ye who from London's smoke and turmoil fly, 
To seek a purer air and brighter sky, 
Think of the bard who dwells in yonder dell, 
Who sang so sweetly what he loved so well : 
Think, as you gaze on these luxuriant bowers, 
Here Thomson loved the sunshine and the flowers — 
He who could paint in all their varied forms, 
April's young bloom, December's dreary storms. 
By yon fair stream, which calmly glides along, 
Pure as his life, and lovely as his song, 
There oft he roved : in yonder churchyard lies 
All of the deathless bard that ever dies ; 
For here his gentle spirit lingers still, 
In yon sweet vale, on this enchanted hill, 
Flinging a holier interest o'er the grove, 
Stirring the heart to poetry and love, 
Bidding us prize the favourite scenes he trod, 
And view in nature's beauties nature's God. 

This, then, is classic ground. Here the author of ' The 
Seasons' ' the laziest and best-natured of mortal men,' used 
to saunter about with his hands in his pockets, or sit and 
dream on the sunny side of the hill. ' Never before or 
since,' says the late Hugh Miller, ' was there a man of 
genius wrought out of such mild and sluggish elements as 
James Thomson.' Yet he was a kind-hearted, unselfish, 
and lovable man, devoted to his friends, and binding them 
to himself with the strongest ties of affection. Poor 



381 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Collins, a man of warm and genial heart, came and lived 
at Richmond for the sake of his society ; and when the poet 
died, quitted the place for ever. Shenstone also loved him 
well, and felt life grow darker at his departure : and Quin 
wept for him no feigned tears on the boards of the theatre. 
Thomson is well portrayed by Lord Lyttleton in the stanza, 
' by another hand,' included in ' The Castle of Indolence :' 

1 A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems, 

Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, 
On virtue still, and nature's passing themes, 

Poured forth his unpremeditated strain. 

The world forsaking with a calm disdain, 
Here laughed he careless in Ms easy seat ; 

Here quaffed, encircled with the joyous train, 
Oft moralizing sage : his ditty sweet, 
He loathed much to write, he cared to repeat.' 

And these were his favourite haunts, where he wandered so 
often, his imagination full of many-coloured conceptions, 
with a quiet eye noting every change which threw its tints 
of gloom or gladness over the diversified prospect, and the 
images of beauty sank into his quiescent mind, as the 
silent shower sinks into the crannies and fissures of the 
soil, to come gushing out at some future day, in those 
springs of poetry which so sparkle in ' The Seasons,' or 
that glide in such quiet yet lustrous beauty in that most 
finished of English poems, ' The Castle of Indolence.' It 
is a spot where one may learn the meaning of his own 
sweet lines — 

' The love of nature works, 
And warms the bosom, till, at last sublimed 
To rapture and enthusiastic heat, 
We feel the present Deity, and taste 
The joy of God to see a happy world/ 

But I must not tarry here dreaming of Thomson. 
Down the hill, through the fair town of Richmond, over 
the Thames, past Twickenham and Hampton Wick, the 
villa of Pope, the palace of Walpole, and many a 
scene of rural beauty ; and then by an iron gate we enter 
Bushy Park, and drive through an avenue of stately chest- 
nuts, a mile in length, five rows on either hand, and innu- 
merable deer grazing in quiet security beneath their ample 
shade. These chestnuts are said to present in the blooming- 



PLEASANT VARIETIES. 385 

season, as one might well conceive, an extremely fine ap- 
pearance ; and on any pleasant Sabbath during the summer, 
thousands of people may be seen sitting or strolling in the 
park, which is always open to the public, affording a con- 
venient retreat from the din and dust of the metropolis. 
On our right we caught a glimpse of Bushy Lodge — a large 
brick building, looking very much like an English farm- 
house of the better class — where William the Fourth was 
residing when the messenger came to hail him ' King of 
Great Britain,' and where the Queen Dowager Adelaide 
breathed out her departing soul to its Maker. At the south 
end of the avenue is a fountain surrounded by a circular 
lake, and surmounted by a bronze statue of the goddess 
Diana, which adds much to the beauty of the prospect. 

Now we enter the grounds of Hampton Court. Hard 
by the gate is the 4 Maze,' probably the very same that 
existed here in the days of Henry the Eighth — 

' A mighty maze, but not without a plan ' — 

where you may walk a mile within half an acre ; and the 
children, of whom there were six in our company — one or 
two ' of larger growth ' — had rare sport in misleading one 
another, as they sought their way to the centre'. Then we 
traverse 6 The Wilderness ' — ten acres of large trees and 
thick shrubbery, chiefly evergreen, with fragrant winding 
walks, ' meet place for whispering lovers.' Next are the 
gardens, which are equal to any that I saw upon the Con- 
tinent, adorned with yew, fir, balsam, myrtle, laurel, cedar, 
and cypress, with long avenues of elms and limes, inter- 
spersed with clambering vines, and rose-trees spreading 
over the walls, and numerous parterres of rlowers filling 
the air with sweetness. In front of the palace is an arti- 
ficial lake, full of gold fish, the largest I have seen ; with 
a great number of swans, black and white, sailing grace- 
fully upon its surface. There is a broad terrace, nearly a 
mile in length, having a fine iron railing, and constructed 
by order of William the Third, where the visitor may stroll 
along the Thames — not polluted here with the vomit of 
gas-houses, dye-houses, slaughter-houses, the sewers of the 
city, and all hideous abominations, but pure and pellucid as 
our own Cumberland, where it gushes from the mountains of 

2c 



386 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Kentucky. In a more private part of the grounds, adjoin- 
ing the palace, and enclosed by an extra wall, is ' Queen 
Mary's Bovver ' — so called, though it seems to have been 
there in the time of Charles the Second, and may have 
sheltered even Nell Gwynnefrom the sunbeams; with the 
remains of Queen Mary's botanical collection, and the 
largest grape-vine in England — perhaps the largest in 
Europe — the fruit of which is preserved for Her Majesty's 
exclusive use. The palace covers eight acres of ground, 
and contains one thousand and ninety-three paintings, 
many of which are very large, and some exceedingly fine ; 
but I shall leave the description of these and the other works 
of art to a taste more cultivated and a pen more capable 
than my own. 

Hampton Court was originally built by Cardinal Wolsey. 
At the summit of his power, desiring to have a palace 
suitable to his rank, and to locate the structure in a healthy 
place T he employed the most eminent physicians in England, 
and called in the aid of six learned doctors from Padua, to 
select the best site within twenty miles of London. After 
thorough examination, they agreed in recommending 
Hampton Parish ; and the Cardinal, upon the faith of 
their report, proceeded to bargain with the Prior of Saint 
John's for a lease of the manor. He was a man of taste, 
and having studied the science of architecture, was able to 
furnish a plan of the building from his own designs; and 
in a very short time he had provided himself a residence 
surpassing in magnitude and splendour any of the royal 
palaces in England. Here he lived in a style of magnifi- 
cence and luxury equalled only by the profligacy of his 
manners. Having absolutely engrossed the royal favour, 
he ruled the country and the king. His pride and osten- 
tation were unbounded ; but they were equalled by his 
ambition and his covetousness. If he was liberal in the 
patronage of learning, and the endowment of benevolent 
institutions, he seems to have been influenced in these in- 
stances, as in others, by the desire of personal aggrandize- 
ment and the love of fame. For a time, no bad man was 
more successful. In the plenitude of his power, he re- 
tained no less than eight hundred persons in ^his suite, and 
his revenues exceeded those of the Crown. The banquets 



PLEASANT VARIETIES. 387 

and masques, so prevalent at that period, were nowhere 
more magnificently ordered than at Hampton Court ; and 
the vast establishment of the luxurious Cardinal was none 
too extensive for the accommodation of the numerous guests 
frequently entertained at his festive board. But such mag- 
nificence could not escape the lash of the satirist; and 
Kenton sings in quaint old verse of this superb mansion — 

* With turrettes and with toures, 
With halles and with boures, 
Stretching to the starres, 
With glass windows and barres ; 
Hanging about their walles 
Clothes of golde and palles, 
Arras of ryche arraye 
Fresh as flour es in Maye ;' 

and then adds : 

' The kynges court 
Should have the excellence ; 
But Hampton Court 
Hath the preeminence ; 
And Yorkes place, 
With my Lord's grace, 
To whose magnificence 
Is all the confluence, 
States and applications, 
Embassies of all nations/ 

And royal envy, as might be supposed, was not slower 
than the poet's satire. The king — Henry the Eighth — 
demanded of the proprietor of Hampton Court what was 
his motive in building a palace more magnificent than his 
own. The ready answer was, ' I desire to furnish a resi- 
dence worthy of so great a monarch, and it is now at the 
disposal of your Majesty. 5 ; I accept it,' replied the king, 
' and give you the manor of Richmond in return.' Thus 
the Cardinal's palace became the property of the crown. 
Hence poor Anne Boleyn went to the scaffold. Here 
Queen Jane Seymour gave birth to Edward the Sixth, and 
died a few days afterwards. Here the young king dwelt 
with the Protector Somerset, when the council threatened 
to take him away by force, and the household and the 
populace armed for his defence. Here Queen Mary and 
Philip of Spain ' passed their honeymoon in gloomy retire- 
ment,' and took their Christmas supper 'in the great hall 



388 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

illuminated with a thousand lamps.' Here the Princess 
Elizabeth heard matins in the Queen's closet, ' attired in a 
robe of white satin, strung all over with large pearls.' 
Here she afterwards ' sat with their Majesties in a grand 
spectacle of jousting,' when i two hundred lances were 
broken.' Here she held her court when she became queen, 
imitating to some extent the magnificence and luxury of 
Henry the Eighth. Here occurred the grand Conference 
of James the First with the Puritan leaders, when in his 
own opinion he ' peppered them soundly.' Here Charles 
the First and his queen, Henrietta, sought refuge from the 
plague, and subsequently from the insurgent apprentices of 
London. Here the unhappy king was kept in splendid 
captivity by the army nearly three months, till he found 
means of escape to the Isle of Wight. Here Oliver 
Cromwell took up his abode after Charles was beheaded, 
and celebrated the marriage of one daughter and the 
funeral of another. Charles the Second and James the 
Second also resided at Hampton Court , William the Third 
made large restorations and additions to the palace, and 
laid out the parks and gardens in their present form ; and 
Mary, his illustrious queen, filled one entire room with 
beautiful embroidery, wrought by her own hands, and those 
of her maids of honour. George the First sometimes 
held his court here; and George the Second and Queen 
Caroline were the last royal occupants. 

For our wanderings through the spacious and splendid 
apartments — for our pleasant skiff-excursions down the 
Thames to Ditton, with its quaint old church and tower — 
for our entertainment at the Swan, the humour of our 
waiter — for an account of Kingston, so called because it 
possesses, well preserved, the stone on which the kings of 
England were anciently crowned — the Royal Gardens at 
Kew. with their tropical plants and flowers, and beautiful 
collection of palms — the suburbs for miles and miles 
brilliantly lighted with gas, as we returned at eventide 
across the moor to Wimbledon Park — the courtesy and 
hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and their amiable 
children — also for the scribe's perambulations through the 
seventeen colleges of Cambridge, and the twenty-four 
colleges of Oxford — the home and haunts of Shakspeare, 






PLEASANT VARIETIES. 389 

Charlecote Park, Warwick Castle, what remains of 
Kenilworth, and the huge relics of the mighty Guy — a 
visit to the Crystal Palace, to the Leviathan, to the 
Zoological Gardens, containing specimens of all that walks, 
or creeps, or swims, or flies — a week of unalloyed enjoy- 
ment at the princely mansion of Mr. Saltmarshe in Berk- 
shire, the excellent Mrs. Saltmarshe's addresses* to the 
poor, and many other unfbrgetable matters — for all this the 
reader is affectionately exhorted to wait with exemplary 
patience till he sees the future poem, with which the writer's 
soul is painfully pregnant. f 

Let us away to Somersetshire. What a noble line is 
this Great Western Railway ! by far the best I ever tra- 
velled, either in Europe or America. The carriages, how- 
ever, are not so comfortable as some I have occupied. The 
first-class will do very well. As we are adjusting ourselves 
at Bath, a very neat-looking lady and gentleman apply to 
the guard for a place in the first-class. That functionary 
opens the door of a carriage in which sits a solitary gentle- 
man. The solitary gentleman waves his hand to the guard, 
and bows to the new-comers in a most significant and solemn 
manner. ' I dare say,' says the guard in an undertone, at 
the same time shutting the door, ' I can find you a seat in 
another carriage.' ' But why not in this ?' inquired the 
gentleman with the lady ; and then, addressing himself to 
the solitary occupant within, ' You have not engaged the 
whole carriage, have you, sir?' The solitary occupant 
within replies, ' The guard will find you seats elsewhere, 
sir.' ' But why not here V ' The guard will show you 
seats, sir.' ' The train is going to start ! this way, sir ! be 
quick!' shouts the guard. ' Quick, madam!' cries the 
station-master; 'anywhere! anywhere!' So with a first- 
class ticket, the lady and gentleman were hustled into a 
second-class car, and the latter was obliged to sit with a 
bandbox on his knees all the way to Bristol .} Arriving 
there, the majestic gentleman whom they had left alone in 

* These addresses are primarily intended for the poor of the 
excellent lady's own sex. — Ed. 

t Mediocribus esse poetis, 

Non dii, non homines, non concessere columnae. 

% This grievous dereliction of duty is not common on English 
railways. — Ed. 



390 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

his glory, stepped out like very royalty upon the platform, 
drew a huge gold watch from his pocket, and exclaimed with 
most impressive emphasis, ' One minute behind time.' Out 
came the watches of all the officials, who gathered around 
the impersonated magnificence, making most deferential 
comparisons of their respective time-pieces with his ; 
while a porter ran to call a cab, and half a dozen more as- 
sisted His Serene Highness to his seat, and every official 
upon the platform touched his hat as the human Behemoth 
rode away. This was a Director : and such in England is 
the reverence paid to official dignity and wealth !* 

Half an hour more, and we are at Clevedon, a pretty 
watering-place on the Bristol Channel. Walking from the 
station to the hotel, I passed a small cottage, which an 
amateur was engaged in sketching. I wondered what for, 
for there was nothing remarkable in its appearance, and I 
saw many prettier every day. A party of ladies came by, 
one of whom — a tall girl, singularly handsome, with dark, 
piercing eyes — said to her companions, ' I see people will 
keep sketching that ugly little cottage, which Coleridge 
never did live in, though everybody says he did.' So this, 
it seems, is the immortal Myrtle Cottage. I know not on 
what authority the beautiful young lady negatived the 
common tradition, and shall leave her to settle the contro- 
versy with Cottle, who states that Coleridge did live there ; 
and adds that the house c had the advantage of being but 
one story high ; and as the rent was only five pounds per 
annum, and the taxes naught, Mr. C. had the satisfaction 
of knowing that by fairly mounting his Pegasus, he could 
write as many verses in a week as would pay his rent 
for a year.' And thus the poet himself sings of his rural 
home: 

* Low was our pretty cot : our tallest rose, 
Peeped at the chamber window. We could hear, 
At silent noon, at eve, and early morn 
The sea's faint murmur. In the open air 
Our myrtles blossomed ; and across the porch 
Thick jasmines twined. The little landscape round 
Was green and woody, and refreshed the eye. 
It was a spot which you might aptly call 
The valley of seclusion !' — Sibylline Leaves. 

* I3 no reverence paid in America to the dollars ? — Ej>, 



PLEASANT VARIETIES. 391 

At the Eoyal Hotel I found comfortable quarters and 
great civility. It was pleasant to stroll out into the little 
garden towards the sea, and find its well-kept lawn tastefully 
interspersed with the prettiest and sweetest flowers. Passing 
thence through a little iron gate, I ascended by a steep 
path to the top of Dial Hill, whence I could look down 
upon the town spread out like a map at my feet. The 
houses — some small and handsome, others large and com- 
fortable — are detached and irregular, like the ground on 
which they are built. The roads wind gracefully around 
the hills, across which, and through the shadowy copsewood, 
runs many a pleasant footpath. Turn where you will, the 
eye reposes upon a landscape of living beauty. How 
charming is the plain, stretching away to the left, in rich 
luxuriance of tree and pasturage, till its length is lost in 
the hazy summer sky ; its breadth girded by a noble range 
of hills, along whose base and sides the little villages repose 
like flocks of sheep ! How delightful is the sea-view on 
the right, with its beautiful islands, and white towering 
lighthouses, and the blue mountains of South Wales 
beyond ! And there go the ships, ten miles distant, down 
the Channel, towards the great ocean, towards my western 
home, and my fair-haired prattler — bearing many a heart 
sad from the recent farewell, or buoyant with the hope of 
happy meetings. God speed their way ! 

I pursue my walk along the fragrant hill-side. The dew 
still lingers on the graceful fern-leaves, and bends the 
sweet wild rose upon its slender stem. Whether from the 
land or the sea, a fresher, purer, more enlivening air I never 
breathed. I soon enter a grove of firs and larches, carpeted 
with the greenest and softest grass, and an Italian sky is 
smiling through the openings of the dewy branches. And 
here is Bella Yista — worthy of its name. There is many a 
view in England, sung by poets and praised by tourists, 
which strangers will go fifty miles to see, and whose name 
is familiar to the reading world as a household word, which 
yet can bear no comparison with this ; and I scarcely saw 
anything of the sort more beautiful on the Continent. The 
rock on which I stand overhangs the Walton Valley, three 
hundred feet below ; and the gray old castle yonder, an 
embattled ruin of vast extent, and the church frequented by 



392 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

former generations, now grass-grown and desolate, seem to 
invite me to their communion ; but I dare not descend — I 
have shaken hands with antiquity. How soothingly comes 
the tinkle of the sheep-bell from the quiet vale ; and how 
inspiring in its majesty the voice of ' the sounding sea ' 
along the rocky shore ! I sit, and gaze, and listen, and my 
soul is feasting on sad and pleasant memories ; for many, 
years have passed since I visited these dear haunts of my 
childhood, and in a few more days I must bid them adieu 
for ever. 

The manor of Clevedon is mentioned in Doomsday Book, 
it is said, as being held by Matthew de Moretanie, under 
William the Conqueror. The present manor-house — 
Clevedon Court, as it is called — was built in the reign of 
Edward II., when the Clevedon family held the manor. It 
is one of the most beautiful specimens of those antique 
mansions for which Somersetshire is so particularly famed. 
The modern millionaire may rear himself a palace of vast 
dimensions, and fill it with all that is costly in art and all 
that is exquisite in luxury ; but while its magnitude excites 
our marvel, and its magnificence elicits our admiration, one 
thing the wealth of India cannot purchase for it — t\\e 
veneration of the beholder. Now this feeling the ancient 
home which I am regarding calls forth in an unu>ual degree, 
not for its costliness or its grandeur, but for its calm and 
quiet aspect, and its solemn preachings of the past. Em- 
bosomed among shadowy trees, it reposes with an air of 
confidence in the sheltering strength of the hills above it ; 
from the heights of which, nearly two thousand years ago, 
the Roman sentinel, gazing as I do, at sunset, upon the 
glowing sea and the glorious Cambrian shore, must have 
forgotten for the moment the classic beauty of his own land 
and the scenery of his native valley. I know not whether 
the present proprietor of Clevedon Court has a family ; 
but if so, why are those shady walks so silent, and those 
luxuriant flowers left to perish where they bloomed ? Those 
trees whose leaves the summer wind is wakening to a. sound 
which falls on the ear with such a mournful cadence, need 
the accompaniment of merry voices. Those roses and 
creepers, which, like other fair things, presuming upon 
their beauty, and reckless of all restraint, are muffling up 



PLEASANT VARIETIES. 393 

V 

the oriel windows and wreathing them into bowers of 
fragrance, require the training hand and the pruning-knife 
c to check their wild luxuriance.' In a word, Clevedon 
Court answers to my beau-ideal of an English home — the 
home of 

■ A fine old English gentleman, 
One of the olden time.' 

And now let us go to Wrington. It is only six miles, 
and on several accounts well worth seeing. The church 
tower, rising to a height of one hundred and forty feet, and 
surmounted by sixteen elegant Gothic turrets, is regarded as 
one of the most beautiful in the kingdom. There was 
originally a pulpit attached to the wall outside of the church, 
as at St. Stephen's cathedral in Vienna, so that our English 
forefathers must have had occasional outdoor preaching, as 
well as the present generation. In that humble thatched 
cottage adjoining the church was born John Locke, the 
author of the immortal ' Essay on the Human Understand- 
ing.' Yonder, on the slope of that pretty hill, is Barley 
Wood, the residence of Hannah More and her sisters. 
From the picturesque scenery around she often drew her 
inspiration, and many passages in her life and writings 
refer to this pleasant locality. That spreading yew in the 
churchyard shades a monument to her memory; but her 
pen has reared for her a better and more durable monument 
in the hearts of the wise and good. That neat little chapel, 
now occupied by the Independents,, was originally built for 
Richard Allein ; and there for many years, in the times 
which tried men's souls, he fed the flock of Christ. In 
1662 he was ejected from the neighbouring living of 
Butcombe, and from the Church of England ; but his 
writings and the fruits of his ministry are a lasting testi- 
mony to his piety and worth. His name will live as long 
as those of John Locke and Hannah More. Few villages 
can boast of such a trio. 

Away for Weston super Mare, twelve miles farther 
down the Channel. When I knew this place thirty-two 
years ago, it was a village of not more than six or seven 
hundred souls, and they chiefly fishermen and yeomen ; 
now it has a population of nearly as many thousand, and is 
one of the most fashionable resorts in the west of England. 



394 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

It is situated on the crescent of a broad bay which opens 
to the west, with a beautiful beach and fine facilities for 
bathing ; protected on the north and the south by parallel 
ranges of hills, and enjoying the most delightful climate to 
be found anywhere in this island. My uncle lived here, 
my father's only brother; and before the emigration of our 
family, I was often at his house to visit my little cousins. 
I well remember the last of these pleasant reunions, and 
how earnestly my dear uncle, in family prayer, implored 
for us the Divine protection in our prospective voyage, and 
besought that we might meet at last in heaven. The good 
old man has long been waiting for us in that Better Land, 
and my aunt, now eighty-nine years of age, lingers in 
cheerful hope on this side the dividing stream, and talks of 
her removal as one talks of a plea-ant journey. ' Oh yes,' 
said she, ' your uncle Edmund went safe ; never was there 
a happier death-bed. I am waiting for my summons, not 
anxious, but ready ; I have nothing to do but to die.' Then 
she showed me all my uncle's class-tickets, and her own, 
for more than fifty years, pasted in a book and carefully 
preserved — a relic worth having, which I have brought 
with me to America. 

Will the reader pardon me if I say a word or two about 
a most interesting work of antiquity ? Worlbury Hill is a 
long and narrow ridge, running far out into the Channel, 
and forming a bold promontory above this beautiful town. 
On the top of this promontory is a remarkable fortification, 
enclosing the remains of dwellings which must be referred 
to a period long anterior to the Roman occupation of 
Britain. Some twenty or thirty acres of ground are en- 
circled by two huge walls of stone, which are surrounded 
by no less than seven successive ditches. Within the walls 
are traces of ancient habitations, and many tombs have been 
excavated, the occupants of which manifestly fell in battle. 
At Kewstoke, on the northern side, is a flight of rude steps, 
over two hundred in number, cut in the side of the hill, 
and conducting to the entrenchment upon its summit. 
These works are attributed, with some probability, to the 
ancient inhabitants of the island, who are believed to 
have worked the neighbouring mines, and furnished the 
Phoenician merchants with ' the chief things of the ancient 



PLEASANT VARIETIES. 395 

mountains, and the precious things of the everlasting hills/ 
three thousand years ago. These mines had been wrought 
for centuries before the invasion by Julius Caesar; and it 
is not improbable that the zinc which formed a component 
part of the bronzes lately exhumed from the buried palaces 
of Nineveh was dug from the Mendip hills. There are 
similar fortifications, to the number of thirty-six, forming 
a perfect chain, more than fifty miles in circuit, around this 
rich mineral region ; and all so located that they could 
easily communicate one with another by signals along 
the whole length of the line. Though the Romans and the 
Danes successively availed themselves of these entrench- 
ments, they are of a character totally different from those 
which are of Eoman or Danish origin, and must be referred 
to another people and an earlier date. 



( 396 ) 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

SAUNTERINGS IN SOMERSETSHIRE, 

Tender Kecollections — Uphill — The Old Church — Ancient Forti- 
fications — The Steep Holmes — A Legend — The Flat Holmes — 
Bleadon — Hobbs's Boat — Lympsham Church and Kectory — 
Brent Knoll — Delightful View — Burnham and the Rest. 

I remained a month in Somersetshire, peripatizing ex- 
tensively. A staff in my hand, a penny roll in my pocket, 
and a prospective glass to aid my imperfect vision, when- 
ever the weather was fine, I went forth in the early morn- 
ing, and spent the livelong day in wandering over fields, 
and moors, and downs, and strands, all teeming with holy 
memories ; and my solitary musings were fraught with the 
sweetest sadness, as I retraced the footsteps of my child- 
hood, and gazed upon a thousand objects which were 
familiar to these eyes before they were dimmed with sorrow. 
From such poetic pilgrimages I often returned thoroughly 
fatigued at eventide ; but the following day, with ' youth 
renewed like the eagle's,' I was out upon the blooming 
meadows and the breezy hills, living over again the blessed 
days of innocence, and watering with tears of love the 
flowers whose ancestors my careless feet had crushed forty 
years ago. Somersetshire has some of the finest scenery 
in England, and the archaeologist and ecclesiologist will 
find abundant interest in its Belgic and Roman remains, 
and its grand old Norman churches ; but to me all was 
doubly beautiful from the associations of memory, and 
every hedge and tree and brook looked like a long-lost 
friend recovered, and the very dust that gathered on my 
sandals, as I paced the sultry street, I would fain have 
treasured as a sacred thing. 

Nothing could be more inspiring than the air, or more 
pleasing than the view, as I strayed southward along the 
strand, one bright morning in August, from Weston-super- 
Mare. How often in other years, with some who have 



SAUNTERINGS IN SOMERSETSHIRE. 397 

long" been in their graves, I trod these golden sands, 
gathering the shells and sea bottles cast up by the friendly 
tide ! A walk of three miles brought me to the residence 
of Esquire Knyfton, in the beautiful village of Uphill. It 
is a modern building, in imitation of the grand old English 
mansions, with lofty tower, and turreted porch, and massive 
buttresses, and battlemented parapet, and mullioned and 
transom ed windows, having a fine lawn in front, with a 
variety of flowers and shrubbery, enclosed by a well- 
clipped hawthorn hedge and a double range of overshadow- 
ing elms — a place which might well make the proprietor 
wish for 'many days!' A little farther on stands the vil- 
lage church — a beautiful structure — with its snug parson- 
age adjoining, thickly covered with roses, myrtles, jessa- 
mines, and honeysuckles — a true picture of English home 
scenery, which in the wide world for comfort and tran- 
quillity is unsurpassed. This was once the residence of 
that sweet bard of nature, William Lisle Bowles ; and thus 
he alludes to Uphill in his ' Days Departed :' 

* I was a child when first I heard the sonnd 
Of the great sea. : Twas night, and journeying far, 
We were belated on our road, 'mid scenes 
New and unknown — a mother and her child, 
Now first in this wide world a wanderer. 
My fattier came, the pastor of the church 
That crowns the high hill-crest above the sea : 
"When, as the wheels went slow, and the still night 
Came down, a low uncertain sound was heard, 
Not like the wind. " Listen!" my mother said, 
" It is the sea ! Listen ! it is the sea P 
My head was resting on her lap — I woke — 
I heard the sound, and closer pressed her side.' 

' The v church that crowns the high hill-crest ' is one of 
the greatest curiosities in Somersetshire — a quaint old 
Norman building, consisting of a nave, a chancel, a tower, 
and a porch, with only three very small windows, casting 
a light sufficiently c dim 'to be ' religious.' There is no 
record of its origin, but local tradition says it was built by 
Beelzebub. It does not become a stranger to impugn 
such authority, especially as tradition is the only basis of 
more than half our history. Moreover, the situation, upon 
a height almost inaccessible, and quite remote from the 



39S THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

village, may be deemed some confirmation of the popular 
account. The masons began building, it is said, at the 
foot of the hill ; but the work they did by day was regu- 
larly removed by night ; till, at length, tired of the unequal 
contest, they gave over the effort ; and the church was 
completed just where the devil wanted it ; and ugly enough, 
I should think, to answer his worst ideal ! Satan, for 
a nght I know, may, as Southey supposes, possess a good 
degree of taste ; but judging from this specimen, he does 
not seem to excel in the department of architecture, or else 
he did not deem it good policy to make a place of worship 
particularly attractive. 

I remember this old structure when it was the only place 
of worship for the villagers. Now it is ruinous and 
deserted, the windows gone, the roof partly fallen in, the 
porch looking like a bandy-legged septuagenary, and the 
bells that used to chime the worshippers so sweetly up the 
hill, hanging idly in the cracked and mossy tower. Yet it 
is allowed to stand as a landmark for the mariner ; and it 
would be sacrilege to demolish so venerable a pile, beneath 
whose pavement and around whose walls sleep the dead of 
so many generations. Here are the graves of an uncle and 
aunt, with those of several cousins, who had been gathered 
to their rest since I was last within the enclosure, and 
sweet flowers w r ere blossoming above the unconscious 
dust. 

Uphill is a little Pisgah, commanding an immense hori- 
zon, including some of the most beautiful scenery in Eng- 
land. It is the western extremity of the picturesque 
Mendip range, with only Brean Down beyond it — a rocky 
headland projecting three miles into the Bristol Channel, 
and looking, at a distance, like some huge marine monster 
come forth to sun himself upon the margin of the sea. 
This lofty promontory is covered with the remains of an- 
cient earthworks, from one extremity to the other, and 
was evidently, at some very remote period, strongly forti- 
fied — perhaps by the Britons, and afterwards by the 
Romans, the Saxons, and the Danes, who are all supposed 
to have occupied it in succession. Uphill also, and Bieadon 
Hill, two miles farther inland, bear the remains of similar 
fortifications, consisting of embankments surrounded with 






SAUXTER1XGS IN SOMERSETSHIRE. 399 

broad and deep trenches ; and from the very spot where 
the old church stands, a ' trackway/ evidently too ancient 
to be of Roman origin, has been traced some twenty miles 
into the interior. It is believed that Uphill was one of the 
principal ports at which the Phoenician ships received the 
products of the Mendip mines, many centuries before the 
Christian era ; and these forts and roads, which abound in 
the vicinity, are referred to that distant period ! 

Three or four miles beyond the extremity of Brean 
Down, rises the Steep Holmes, a rocky and barren islet, 
from the very centre of the Channel. A white house, 
clinging to the side of the precipice, and gleaming in the 
morning sunshine, tells us that even there, cradled amidst 
the surging waters, and serenaded by howling winds, dwell 
some of the human family. It was on this solitary rock 
that Gildas Bardonicus, the celebrated British historian 
and philosopher, found a temporary asylum during the 
desolating conflicts between the Picts, the Scots, and the 
Saxons, till he was driven off by pirates, and took refuge 
in the Abbey at Glastonbury. Githa, the mother of 
Harold, the last of the Saxon kings, with the wives of many 
Saxon thanes or noblemen, retired hither after the death 
of her son at the fatal battle of Hastings ; and here re- 
mained in safety, till an opportunity offered for their 
departure to St. Omer's in Flanders. The Danes also, 
defeated upon the neighbouring coast, witiidrew to this 
islet in the Channel, where many of them perished by 
famine, and whence the remainder sailed for Ireland. 

There is a curious legend, current in this neighbour- 
hood, connected with the Danish invasion, which I re- 
collect to have heard when a child. The Danes, land- 
ing at Uphill, moored their ships, and pursued the flying 
inhabitants far into the interior. An old woman, too in- 
firm to escape, concealed herself among the rocks, and 
afterwards stole out and cut loose the vessels. Returning 
from the chase, the Danes found their fleet floated far out 
to sea wih the retiring tide. The routed inhabitants now 
rallied, and a desperate conflict ensued on Bleadon Hill, 
from which the blood ran down in rivulets to the plain. 
This event is said to have given name to the place — Bloody 



400 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

Down — subsequently contracted into Bleadon. I will not 
vouch for the derivation. 

The Flat Holmes is the twin sister of the Steep Holmes, 
and lies only two or three miles distant. It is less lofty, 
but more extensive. Its highest point bears a lighthouse, 
where nightly glows the warning and guide of the mariner. 
The island is fertile and well cultivated, and has an inn for 
the accommodation of visitors. There is fine fishing 
around it, and good bathing upon its pebbly beach ; and 
multitudes resort hither, during the summer, from Bristol, 
and Cardiff, and many other places on both sides of the 
Channel. On this island tradition points out three graves, 
as the last resting-places of the murderers of Thomas-a- 
Becket. How sweetly Bowles has sung their penitence 
and exile in his sonnet of Woodspring Abbey : — 

' These walls were built by men who did a deed 
Of blood ; terrific conscience, day by day, 
Followed where'er their shadow seemed to stay, 
And still in thought they saw their victim bleed, 
Before God's altar shrieking : pangs succeed, 
As dire upon their heart the deep sin lay, 
No tears of agony could wash away. 
Hence ! to the land's remotest limit speed ! 
These walls are raised in vain, as vainly flows 
Contrition's tear ! Earth, hide them! and thou, Sea, 
Which round the lone isle where their bones repose 
Dost sound for ever, their sad requiem be, 
In fancy's ear, at pensive evening's close, 
Still murmuring — " Miserere, Domine ! " ' 

But to pursue my journey. Here is the house in which, 
long years ago, lived my uncle Norman, where I used to 
play with my little cousins, who now lie beside their parents 
in the old churchyard yonder. And here, a mile and a 
half farther, on the beautiful slope of Bleadon Hill, is the 
cottage of my maternal grandmother Gould, exactly as I 
saw it when I came to the old lady's funeral, in 1824. It 
is a sweet place, quite buried in massive foliage and flower- 
ing vines ; and I do not wonder that the little i Robin 
Redbreast ' chose it as her asylum from the winter storm, 
fluttering against the window every morning till she was 
admitted, and then spending the day familiarly in the house 
with her quiet and aged friend ! At the foot of the hill is 
the church, beneath whose eaves her venerable dust reposes 



SAUNTERINGS I# SOMERSETSHIRE. 401 

— the only remarkable building in the village. Like most 
others in this part of Somersetshire, it is very ancient, and 
built in the Perpendicular or Early Gothic style. Tiie most 
interesting thing within is the octagonal stone pulpit, ela- 
borately carved with niches and delicate tracery. There 
are many such pulpits within half a dozen miles — one at 
Ban well, one at Hutton, one at Kewstoke, and another at 
TVbrle — all of which seem to have been made after the 
same pattern, with very little variation in the details of the 
ornament. In the middle of the eleventh century the 
manor of Bleadon was given by Githa, the wife of Earl 
Godwin, to the church of St. S within, at Winchester, in 
whose possession it is still retained. Eight hundred years 
have passed over the village, but it is now probably very 
much what it was then, apparently having experienced but 
little change. 

Here we enter upon an extensive level country, consist- 
ing almost entirely of pasture lands, intersected by numerous 
dykes and drains. Pursuing our way we soon arrive at 
Hobbs's Boat — so called because there is no boat there, and 
no use for any. The supposition is, that once upon a time 
— nobody knows how long ago— a man by. the name of 
Hobbs kept a ferry here, for this depression in the ground 
w r as the channel of the river Axe. In my boyhood, when 
we came to Bleadon to visit the venerable personage afore- 
said and her pet robin, w r e crossed the stream upon a sub- 
stantial bridge ; but since that, an Act of Parliament has 
been passed, empowering the river to take another course, 
of which privilege it quickly availed itself, leaving Hobbs's 
Boat high and dry, the bridge a superfluous ornament in the 
landscape, and its own bed a pasture for cattle. 

The road hence to Lympsham is as crooked as the engi- 
neer could well make it. The lofty leaning church tower 
is seen not more than a mile and a half distant, rising 1 
above a beautiful grove ; but after travelling nearly an 
hour, it seems as far off as when we first beheld it, The 
recollections, however, connected with these green fields 
and hedges, these pretty cottages and farm-houses, beguile 
the way of its tedium, and I go dreaming on till I reach 
that quiet and sequestered retreat, where the stranger's feet 
delight to linger, and mine are chained by memory. The 

2d 



402 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

church and rectory of Lympsham present a scene purely 
English in its character ; and so pleasing that he who has 
seen it once delights often to recall the picture. Even aside 
from its associations to one who spent here the happiest 
portion of his life, it is altogether one of the most charming 
spots my eyes ever beheld. Its beauty is entirely the re- 
sult, however, of taste and culture ; for the locality is a 
dead level, and void of all natural advantages. The pro- 
jecting bay windows of the rectory, its pretty porch of open 
work, its octagonal turret, graceful tower, and other deco- 
rative features of the Tudor style, produce a most pleasing 
erFect in domestic architecture ; and when united with trees 
and shrubbery of various forms and foliage, with lawns and 
arbours and luxuriant vines, it seems a place consecrated 
to tranquillity and repose, and worthy of the immortal 
names of Wilberforce and Hannah More which adorn its 
history. The same general care and elegant neatness ex- 
tend to the enclosure where 

' The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.' 

Those little heaps of turf, as well as the living home, are 
covered with flowers, and surrounded with an emerald 
carpet of the softest velvet, protected by an iron railing, 
and shaded by a variety of ornamental trees. It is a place 
where one might wish to lie, awaiting the resurrection ! 

For the present, however, we pass on to Brent. What a 
glorious pyramid is this Brent Knoll, rising abruptly from 
the plain to the height of a thousand feet ; as if some 
mighty hand, reached forth from the clouds, had pinched 
up the level surface, and left it there, a thing" of beauty, for 
ever ! The base of the hill is about three miles in circum- 
ference. The first ascent, which is about four hundred feet, 
and very steep, terminates in a broad table-land, from the 
centre of which ascends a cone six hundred feet higher, 
which is rather difficult to climb. At the summit, a thou- 
sand feet above the plain, is a level area of about half a 
mile in circuit, with a double entrenchment all around, 
which is evidently very ancient. I recollect that in my 
boyhood it was said many old Roman coins and weapons 
had been found here. Later excavations prove the work to 
be of much greater antiquity than the Roman invasion of 



SAUNTERINGS IN SOMERSETSHIRE. 403 

Britain. That the Romans occupied it, indeed, is quite 
evident ; but it must have been previously occupied by the 
Britons or the Belgae — perhaps both — several centuries be- 
fore Christ. The Rev. W. Phelps, who has devoted much 
attention to British antiquities, and written a history of 
Somersetshire, in a paper presented to the Archaeological 
Society expresses the belief, and not without plausible 
grounds, that this and the neighbouring fortifications refer 
to a period long antecedent to the invasion of Britain by 
the Belgic Gauls, three hundred and fifty years before the 
Incarnation, and must be assigned to the earlier settlers in 
this part of Britain — the ' Hedui,' who worked the mines 
of the Mendip Hills at least seven hundred years before 
this event, and supplied the Phoenicians — the great mer- 
chants of the world — with lead, zinc, and iron. 

The name — Brent — is said to be derived from brennan, 
to burn, either because the Saxon dwellings and defences 
were burned by the invading Danes in the ninth century, 
or, more likely, because signal-fires were usually lighted 
upon the crest of the knoll in times of danger. The 
word, however, is Celtic — Braint — the equivalent of law ; 
and probably the eminence was so called because the ancient 
inhabitants, in accordance with their universal custom, pub- 
lished their laws to the assembled multitude upon the 
summit. 

There is a place, just at the southern base of the hill, 
called Battleborough ; and this name bears witness to 
an ancient conflict, of which there is no other tradition. 
Many battles, indeed, were fought in the immediate vicinity 
of Brent Knoll ; one between the Belgae and the Britons, 
B.C. 300 ; another between the Romans and the Britons, 
a.d. 50 ; another between the Marcians and the West 
Saxons, a.d. 500 ; another between the Danes and the 
Saxons, a.d. 880, when King Alfred occupied the height 
with his army. It was a favourite stronghold of the West 
Saxons, who inade it their last resort, and maintained it 
against the invaders after they were dislodged from all 
their surrounding fortresses. 

It was a beautiful morning in August when I passed 
through South Brent churchyard, and ascended the hill- 
side, by a path which seemed quite familiar, though I had 



404 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

not trodden it for more than thirty-two years. Eagerly 
I worked my way up the rugged steep, nor paused to look 
back till I had gained the very summit. What a vision of 
beauty lay spread out beneath and around me ! To the 
west, less than a league distant, was the Bristol Channel, 
opening a broad vista to the Atlantic. Upon its margin 
stood the massive tower of Burnham, with its lofty light- 
house, surrounded by hills of sand. A little farther north- 
ward was the shining strand, and the white church of 
Berrow, and the bold pronic-ntory of Brean Down, jutting 
far out into the sea. Beyond this lay the rocky Holmes, 
like a huge loaf of bread, upon the surface of the water ; 
and still farther the blue coast of Wales, with its inland 
mountains, rising like islands from the sea of mist that 
concealed their base. To the north and east ran the bare 
Mendip Hills, with a score of bright villages reposing 
along- their sides. And there yaw r ned the dark gorge of 
Cheddar, as if some mighty hand from the sky had smitten 
through the mountain. And Glastonbury Tor, upon its 
lofty pyramid, stood out in bold relief against the southern 
horizon. And to the right lay the memorable field of Sedge- 
moor, and the town of Bridgewater, and the river Parret, 
and Enmore Castle, and the Quantock Hills, and a suc- 
cession of bold headlands along the channel stretching 
away to Cornwall. It was a charming panorama ; and the 
sky was as bright, and the air as balmy, as those of the 
fair Lucanian coast. Oh, the luxury of this soft summer 
wind, regaling the sense with every delicacy of freshening 
perfume ! I sat me down, and feasted eye and soul upon 
the picture before me. Within sight, and almost at my 
feet, were the house where I was born, and the church in 
which I was baptized. Two miles farther was the old tower 
of Lympsham, beneath whose shadow I was initiated into 
the mysteries of the alphabet; the white cottage, half- 
mantled with vines, where I spent the happiest eight years 
of my life ; the fields over which I wandered so often with 
my little brothers and cousins, plucking the yellow cowslips, 
or gathering the purple sloes ; my dear old grandmother's 
cottage, peeping out from its embowering emerald on the 
green slope of Bleadon, up which, hand in hand, we who 
have been separated so far and so long, bounded merrily 



SAUNTERINGS IN SOMERSETSHIRE. 405 

together ; and within the ample sweep of the encircling- 
hills, a hundred other objects and localities, every one of 
which called up some vivid picture of the past. I sat and 
dreamed. In one brief hour, I lived all my childhood 
over again. Words are vain, to paint the holy memories, 
the sweet melancholy, the raptures of love and sorrow which 
steal over the heart in such an hour ! 

Hence to Burnham, where I find a number of rela- 
tions still living, and others in the churchyard, whom I 
knew and loved so many years ago ! This is a popular 
summer resort, situated on the Bridgewater Bay, just where 
the Parret and the Brue enter the Bristol Channel. It 
is a small village, but delightfully located, and has a 
magnificent beach, with fine facilities for bathing. The 
coast is flat and low, and must be frequently inun- 
dated by the sea, were it not for the vast heaps of sand 
which form its natural defence. These sand-hills — or as 
they are provincially called, ; zon totts' — are covered with 
coarse grass and weeds, and afford a home for innumerable 
rabbits, which perforate them in every direction. The 
entrance of the river Parret is very dangerous, and here 
Alfred the Great is said to have been wrecked after his 
misfortunes with the Danes. There is now, and has been 
for many years, a fine lighthouse for the greater safety of 
mariners entering the port. The old records mention the 
priory of Burnham ; of which, however, there are no traces 
remaining, not even a tradition of its locality. The manor 
was one of those given by King Ina to the Abbots of 
Glastonbury, and held by them till the monastery was sub- 
verted and destroyed. The church is a majestic old struc- 
ture, with a tower of huge proportions ; which, like the 
more graceful one of Lympsham, declines somewhat from 
the perpendicular. I think the bells in its upper story are 
the clearest and the sweetest I ever heard ; and when they 
are rung in the stillness of the evening — not chimed like our 
Charleston bells — there is magic in their music. There 
is a fine Grecian altarpiece in the church, designed and 
sculptured by Inigo Jones ; originally placed, by Sir 
Christopher Wren, amid the Gothic glories of Westminster 
Abbey ; but on the coronation of George the Fourth 
removed from so absurd a position, and placed in the 



406 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

scarcely less absurd one which it now occupies. In the 
churchyard are several tombstones inscribed with the name 
of Locke, and belonging to the family of the immortal John. 
The vicarage was for many years the favourite resort of 
the learned Dr. King, Bishop of Rochester, and editor of 
Burke, who had formerly been vicar of the parish. 

But not to weary my reader with the incidents, doubtless 
much more interesting to myself than others, of my fort- 
night's sojourn at Burn ham ; my morning strolls on 
Berrow Strand, and evening walks on Brean Down ; the 
beautiful phenomenon of the mirage which I witnessed 
there, and the super-Italian sunsets I beheld over the 
Bristol Channel ; a trip to Mark, and Wedmore, and 
Axbridge, and the Chiddar Cliffs, and the subterranean 
glories of their Stalactite Cavern ; an excursion across the 
heath, skirting the field of Sedgemoor, to old monkish 
Glastonbury, with its wondrous Tor, and ruined Abbey, 
and memorials of the unfortunate Abbot Whiting, and 
the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, which, after having 
walked with it from Jerusalem hither, he stuck into the 
soil on the side of the hill, where it still flourishes as a 
vigorous thorn-tree, and blossoms every Christmas ! 



( 407 ) 



CHAPTER XXXVII, 

HEART-RECORDS. 

Home of my Childhood — Interesting Colloquy — Across the Daisy- 
fields to Lympsham — The Wesleyan Chapel — Another Colloquy 
— The Parish Church — The Churchyard and its Occupants — An 
Old Friend — East Brent Church — South Brent Church — An 
Evening Scene — The Burnham Bells — ' Hail, Columbia !' 

Still in Somersetshire. This name is Saxon, and signifies 
£ Pleasant Country ;' and if the best climate in the king- 
dom, the most beautiful shores and strands, picturesque 
islands and promontories, segregated hills in the midst of 
extensive plains, wide fields of golden corn, the richest of 
pasture-lands, the noblest sheep and cattle, incomparable 
butter and cheese, well-loaded orchards, sweet rural villas, 
hedgerows of living verdure, church- towers of unrivalled 
elegance, and chimes of ^Eolian melody, are circumstances 
to please the human senses, then Somersetshire is not un- 
worthy of its distinction. 

Well, I am in Somersetshire, the ' Pleasant Country ;' 
and certainly no country ever looked more pleasant to me — 
not even Italy, with its vine-clad hills, and groves of olive 
and orange, and Campagna strewn with ruins, and the sun- 
sets which glorify its skies, and the histories which hallow 
its soil — than this same Somersetshire, when I came down 
from London. Time can never efface, as language can 
never describe, the feelings with which I then surveyed 
these flowery pastures and romantic hills. If you can 
imagine, dear reader, how Adam would have felt, after 
thirty-two years of exile from the blessed garden, toiling 
over the thorny and thistly earth, burying his Abel in his 
blood, beholding his Cain an accursed fugitive, to have 
found himself again at the seraph-guarded gate, and to 
have seen the heavenly sentinel sheathe his flaming sword 
and beckon him to enter, then you may imagine something 
of my feelings as I rushed towards the cottage of my 
nativity ! 

It was with difficulty, at first, that I could recognize the 



408 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

place. The Bristol and Exeter Railway, which passes 
close by, had been constructed since ; and old houses had 
been- demolished ; and new houses had been erected ; and 
all things, like myself, had changed. Soon, however, I 
began to identify one object after another, till the whole 
assemblage seemed perfectly familiar, and the realities of 
childhood came back as vivid as the scenes of yesterday. 
Then the quickthorn -hedge, which I watched my father 
planting when I was only five years old, gave me a smiling 
welcome ; and the apple-trees beneath which I stood, hand- 
ing him the scions as he grafted them, stretched out their 
generous arms, and offered me their golden fruit ; and the 
good old yew at the end of the garden-walk, as I sat down 
at its roots, and heard the wind among its branches, seemed 
to say to me, ' So you are returned to your old play- 
ground ; but where have you been so long? and where are 
Eliza and your three little brothers V 

My overburdened heart was relieved, and I arose and 
walked towards the cottage. A feeble and wrinkled old 
woman stood at the door, and the following dialogue ensued : 

6 Good morning ! Who lives in this house ?' 

' John Fear deh live here, Zur.' 

' Does he own the place ?' 

' Awn et — ah, teh be shower eh do, an eh have vor theaz 
twenty yers an moor.' 

i Indeed ! And of whom did he buy it?' 

6 Eh bought et o' Meeaster Collins, as had et o' Jarge 
Cross, as went teh 'Murica moor'n a scawr an half o' yers 
agone.' 

1 Did you know George Cross ?' 

' Knaw en — te be shower I did. I deh mind en vurry 
well, bless ee ; an I deh mind Lizzy, too, an ael the 
children, gooneh. Theh had nine, an then be ael gone teh 
'Murica vor mor'n thirty yers.' 

* Have you ever heard anything of the family since they 
went to America ?' 

' Ees, Zur, a scawr o' times ; an two o' the bwahs, I dah 
hier, be Wesley an preachers ; an poor Lizzy be dead theaz 
vifreen er zixteen yers, I 'spooez ; an one er two o' the 
childern be dead too, I deh think. But Jarge were here, 
an one o' es zuns wee en, about a dozen yers agone ; an 



HEART-RECORDS. 409 

the tears did hern down the good awld man's feeace, an I 
thawt eh must be zarry that eh ever went awah vrom es 
country.' • 

' Do you remember the names of any of the boys ?' 

i Ees, Zur ; I deh sim teh mind ivery one o' em. Theear 
were John — he were the awldest ; an than theear were 
William, an Harry, an Jarge, an Liza, an Jozzeph, an 
Moses, an Aaron, an Benny. Benny were the youngest o' 
em, an the poor fellow were adrowned. Liza were the 
awnly daeghter, an Moses and Aaron were twins.' 

c Do you think you would know any of them if you should 
see them ?' 

' Well, I deh sim I should, yeh knaw ; but than theear 
tis a long time, an vurry likely I should'en. Lord bless ee, 
Zur ! ee beeant nern o' 'em, be ee ?' 

' Yes ; I am Joseph ' 

My dear reader, you must imagine the rest : I have no 
colours for the picture. 

The above will answer at least for a specimen of the 
* Zummerzet ' dialect, to which indeed I have scarcely done 
justice, for it is extremely difficult to express some of the 
sounds in writing. 

Now I had the freedom of the premises, and the old 
woman conducted me up stairs and down stairs, and among 
the currant-bushes and raspberry-briers, and showed me 
the wall-flowers and carnations that my dear mother had 
cultivated so long ago, and the outhouse in which i Little 
Joe ' used to build his pulpits, and preach to his sister and 
three younger brothers ; and her tears seemed to lubricate 
her superannuated tongue, and her stream of talk was 
interlarded with exclamations of infinite astonishment, as 
she recounted the vicissitudes of time and fortune ; and 
my ear and heart drank in, with unspeakable satisfaction, 
this voice from the past ; and I deemed that dear old 
dialect the sweetest eloquence I had ever heard ! 

Loaded with fruits, and flowers, and verbal blessings, 
I took my departure across the sweet daisy-fields of 
Lympsham along the very footpath by which my father led 
me to church on Sunday, and my sister to school on the 
weekday, twoscore years ago. A mile distant, I could see 
the white battlements of the rectory peeping out from their 



410 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 



bowers of verdure, and the lofty church-tower rising grace- 
fully over the tops of the surrounding elms. But before 
I had proceeded far, three diverging paths puzzled me ; 
and a lad, of whom I inquired the way, gave me the 
following directions : ' Ee deh goo down thick wall agin ee 
deh come to a styel, an than ee deh goo droo a grown ael vull 
o' gripes, an eel zee a berge wee a pyer awver the rheen, 
an ee deh volly the leean to the archid geeat, and theear 
be Lympsham Chapel tother zide o' the rhawd.' Observing 
my instructions, I very soon recovered my reckoning ; 
and there was the identical stile in the hedge, and the 
identical bridge over the rhine — I could have sworn to 
them as the friends of my childhood — the same that I had 
crossed a hundred times ; and there was the cluster of 
matted thorn-trees, overgrown with sweet-blossoming vines, 
where I remember, as well as if it were but yesterday, to 
have knelt, as I returned alone from the afternoon Sabbath- 
school, and poured out my little heart to God. O Time, 
and Change, and Sin ! what have ye done for me since 
that blessed day ! And yet, thanks be to the grace of 
God ! the influence of that day has hung like a perpetual 
benediction over my sinful and sorrowful life, and even 
now its holy recollection returns like an angel from the 
bowers of Eden ! 

But here is the snug little Wesleyan Chapel. Dear old 
friend, how well do I remember thee ! Good Mrs. Slocum, 
who keeps a little school in the adjoining cottage, has 
charge of the premises, and opens the door for the stranger. 
It was the same place. Every object was thoroughly 
familiar. There was the very seat in which we always 
sat — father, and mother, and their little train. There were 
the identical wooden pegs in the wall, on which my father 
hung up all our hats before he knelt in prayer. There was 
the pulpit at which I used to sit and gaze, wondering if it 
were made so high that the minister might be nearer to 
heaven when he prayed. And the good woman watched 
me with the most inquisitive wonder, as I wandered about 
the place, and turned away again and again to hide an un- 
willing tear. 

' Is not that the pew,' said I, ' in which Mrs. B. used 
to sit V 



HEART-RECORDS. 411 

c Ah, yes,' she replied : l Mrs. B. was a holy woman 
indeed. God had given her wealth, but she counted all 
things loss for Christ. Nobody did more for our cause in 
Lympsham. She was never ashamed of her Saviour. Her 
family was one of the high ones in Somerset ; but every 
Sunday evening she came and sat here amonsf the humble 
Wesleyans, and often said that the happiest hours of her 
life were those she spent in the chapel.' 

' And is she yet living V 

6 Ah. no ! the dear old saint has long been in heaven.' 

1 Do you remember Mr. Hatch ?' 

1 Oh, yes ! it was under him I joined the society, nearly 
forty years ago.' 

4 And Mr. Bows ?' 

' Oh, very well — yery well indeed ! He followed Mr. 
Billings on the Banwell circuit. Mr. Billings was a faith- 
ful and holy man. They have all ceased from their labours, 
and their works do follow them.' 

'Oh, Mr. Billings! I remember him! He was my 
favourite preacher — first, because he preached so loud and 
earnestly ; and, secondly, because once, when the whole 
congregation stood singing after the sermon, and my cousin 
and I were trying the utmost strength of our lungs, he 
called out from the pulpit — " That's right, my little boys ! 
Sing up, my little boys !" and after that I always loved 
Mr. Billings with an unspeakable love.' 

' Pray, sir, may I be so bold as to ask w r ho you are ? 

' I am a Methodist preacher from America. My name 
is Joseph Cross.' 

' Is it possible — is it possible that I see the son of George 
Cross in Lympsham, and he a labourer in the vineyard of 
the Lord V 

And the tears fell thick and fast from her uplifted eyes, 
as she clasped her hands and exclaimed, ' Bless the Lord, 
O my soul ! and all that is within me, bless his holy name!' 
And I had the best meeting that hour I ever enjoyed in 
the old chapel of my childhood ! 

Let us hasten on to the parish church. Its Gothic tower 
is one of the finest in England, and bears a most musical 
set of bells. Well do I remember standing* by one of the 
buttresses, and gazing up at its stupendous altitude, and 



412 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

calculating that about twice that distance would carry one 
quite to heaven. The church is very ancient, and was 
given by Ina, King of the West Saxons, to the abbots of 
Glastonbury. Since I was here, it has undergone a 
thorough renovation ; but its massive tower still declines 
several feet from the perpendicular. The present rector 
— a very eloquent and useful man. they say — was my class- 
mate in Sabbath-school. His father was then the incum- 
bent of the parish ; and once a week the good man used to 
come and hold a prayer-meeting in my father's house. He 
now lies in the vestry, awaiting the resurrection ; and the 
old pulpit in which he preached stands close by his tomb, 
while his son occupies the new one which has taken its 
former place. The rectory, with its long front, and pretty 
porch, and oriel windows, and surrounding firs and laurels, 
with glimpses of greensward and blossoming parterres be- 
tween, forms a most charming view, and demonstrates 
the advantage of the English tithe-system — to the parson ! 
The churchyard is as neat as a flower-garden — just such a 
spot as another Gray might choose in which to write his 
Elegy. These graves are so pleasantly arranged as to rob 
the grim king of half his terrors. What is there to shud- 
der at in lying down to rest in such a spot as this ? 

And here is a huge D upon a tombstone, executed by 
my roguish cousin Bob, with a brush and red paint, 
thirty-five years ago, but as fresh as if done but yesterday. 
And here reposes the dust of a dearly-beloved uncle, and 
two aunts, and several cousins. The death-bed of one of 
them I well remember. Lord, ' let my last end be like 
his V My grandfather and grandmother Cross are resting 
close by. I shall never forget them, though the blossoms 
of nearly forty summers have decked their humble graves. 
They lived at the churchyard corner, and kept the village 
school, and there I learned to read this sublime couplet: 

* Don't you tell, 
Down I fell.' 

They were people of most exemplary piety ; and the 
Methodist preachers, whom I regarded as little less than 
angels, frequently visited their cottage. I remember how 
I grieved when that dear old building was demolished 



HEART-RECORDS. 413 

to make way for the present pretentious schoolhouse, 
in which I afterwards recited my catechism and Scripture- 
lessons. The old parish-clerk sleeps just under the eaves, 
and his nasal chant is silent for ever. One luckless autumn 
he was ejected from his office because cider happened 
to be plenty that season ; and afterwards he used to 
stand at the church door and look sorrowfully at the 
reading-desk which he had occupied for more than twenty 

years. 

' A stranger filled the Stuart's throne,' 

and the consciousness that his deposition was well deserved 
did not deprive the thought of its sting. He still went 
regularly to church, though every service probably renewed 
the pang. 

Once more I climbed the hill — to me the most beautiful 
in the world — at the base of which my little bark was 
launched for immortality. I soon came to a field that was 
once my father's ; but the little copse adjoining it was gone, 
and the brook along whose banks I had gathered violets 
and primroses seemed to have changed its course, so that I 
was somewhat perplexed to find my way. But here comes 
a lad in a handsomely wrought white linen ; smock-frock :' 
perhaps he can direct me. 

' My son, where is the path over the hill?' 

' Ee rnus goo up thick leean, Zur, and awver the sty el, 

agin ee cleh come to Meeaster Perkins' archid, an than ? 

6 Mr. Perkins ? Is it Thomas Perkins you speak of?' 
' Ees, Zur. Eh were in the wars o' Crimer, an they shoot 
en, Zur ; an when eh coined whum, eh were bad a crippled ; 
an zo eh have a pension now.' 

I was in luck. I had stumbled, thus accidentally, upon 
a dear old friend — my playmate and bedfellow in boyhood. 
By all means, I must see Thomas. At my request the lad 
ran before me, and showed me the way to his house. I 
found him in the garden, leaning upon a crutch. 

< Is this Mr. Perkins ?' 

' My name is Perkins, sir.' 
• ' Thomas Perkins ?' 

< Thomas Perkins, sir.' 

; I suppose you do not remember me ?' 



414 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

' I don't know that I ever saw you before, sir. When 
and where was it ?' 

' We met thirty-five or six years ago in Week Lane, 
We parted thirty-two years ago last May, at your father's 
door.' 

He grasped my hand firmly in both his own, looked me 
steadily in the face, and stood biting his lips, while the big 
tears flowed freely from his eyes. It was some time before 
he could speak ; and then all he said was — ' It is Joseph ! 
It is little Joe!' 'Yes/ said I, 'it is little Joe;' and 
then we wept together. Of the sequel of this interview, 
and my pleasant entertainment at the house of my friend, 
and his interesting narrative of ten years in India, followed 
by the hardships and perils of the Crimean war, from which 
he returned perforated by two Russian bullets, and of 
many other matters — to me very interesting, perhaps less 
so to my readers — I will not write at present. I was 
anxious to look into the church where in infancy I was 
consecrated to God in holy baptism, and my friend cheer- 
fully bore me company ; and as we went slowly along by 
the laurel hedae that encloses the rectory, he ' fought all 
his battles o'er again/ and gave me many amusing inci- 
dents of his own life, and an account of the sad fortunes of 
his family. 

But here is East Brent Church. It has been thoroughly 
renovated since I saw it last, and looks rather papistical 
within. Perhaps the reader will remember having seen 
something a few years ago in the public prints about an 
Archdeacon Denison, who was under discipline for his 
Puseyism, in which he was thought to go a little farther in 
some respects than Dr. Pusey himself. The Archdeacon 
is rector of East Brent ; and the Rev. Mr. Ditcher, vicar 
of South Brent, is the author of the charges against him. 
The matter is not yet settled, nor likely to be very soon ; 
meanwhile the Archdeacon retains his place, and preaches 
the real presence in the eucharist as faithfully as any servant 
of His Holiness at Rome. 

The church is a handsome structure, though Time's 
effacing fingers have somewhat impaired the exterior, and 
some of the details of the workmanship are well-nigh 
obliterated. It has a quadrangular tower eighty feet high ; 



HEART-RECORDS. 41 5 

surmounted by a graceful spire, which is sixty feet more. In 
the front wail of the tower, one above the other, are three 
canopied niches, containing three effigies — King Ina, King 
Ethelard, and Queen Frithogita. The ancient manor, 
together with those of South Brent, Burnham, Lympsham, 
and Bleadon — all within two miles of one another — was 
given by Ina, King of the West Saxons, to the Abbey of 
Glastonbury in the year of our Lord 690, and was held by 
the abbots till the dissolution of the monastery. One of 
them built a splendid mansion for a summer residence not 
far from the church, some fragments of which remained up 
to the commencement of the last century, but have since 
that entirely disappeared. 

After viewing the church, and visiting the National 
School which is hard by, I took leave of Thomas, promising 
to visit him again, and made my way over the flank of the 
hill to South Brent. Here, too, I was fortunate, for the 
church was open. Like that of East Brent, it has under- 
gone extensive alterations and repairs since I was last 
within its walls. The two end galleries are removed, and 
the grand old archway into the tower which one of them 
had long closed is thrown open. The massive oak pews 
also, which were constructed hundreds of years ago, when 
the services at the altar were esteemed much more than the 
ministrations of the pulpit, have given place to more 
convenient modern seats. Some of the curious old satirical 
carvings are still preserved, among which are these : a 
monkey in a monk's cloak and hood, reading prayers ; a 
fox in canonicals, with a mitre on his head, and a crozier in 
his hand ; a young fox in chains, bearing a bag of money, and 
surrounded by chattering cranes ; and a fox hung by a 
goose upon a tree, while two cubs are barking at the foot 
of the gallow r s. It is believed that these caricatures were 
designed by the parochial clergy as a satire upon the 
preaching orders, whose interference with their flocks gave 
rise to mutual antipathies and revilings. The same old 
Norman arch surmounts the door of the tower ; but the 
ships, houses, and animals, which I drew with chalk so long 
ago, are all obliterated, and the thick oak panels seem to 
have been lately covered with a good coat of varnish. 
The tower itself is a massive structure in the perpendicular 



416 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

style, and exhibits many traces of antiquity. The mural 
monument of ' John Somerset, Gent.,' dated 1663, is very 
remarkable ; consisting of three busts, one of them a man 
grasping his sword, and the others his two wives, one of 
whom wears a large broad-brimmed hat, with a deep frill 
around her neck ; all placed in oval recesses, surmounted 
by an entablature, which is supported by columns of Sienna 
marble. 

It is evening. I recline upon the thyme-breathing turf 
upon the hillside above the church, and watch the setting 
sun. A fairer landscape, or a lovelier sky, never blessed 
the vision of man. The soft air is loaded with delicious 
fragrance — the exquisite blending of all perfume. The 
scene is pervaded by every possible variety of colour, 
mellowed into one grand harmony of effect. How dark 
and huge those aged elms stand out against the gold and 
emerald background of harvest-field and meadow ! The 
wind which breathes so softly through this venerable yew, 
stirs not a leaf of their massy foliage. Thirty-three years 
ago, on a calm summer evening like this, I heard the 
village band discoursing sweet concords beneath their 
ample branches. Just below, between those thick and 
lofty hedges, winds the fine macadamized road, and the hum 
of the passing phaeton makes an agreeable bass to the soft 
treble of the brook beside me, while the trot — trot — trot 
— trot — of that gray horse keeps time to my measured 
musings. 

Hark ! What is that mellow sound, which comes like 
an angel's lute-notes upon the wind ? Do I dream, or is it 
the cadence of a pleasant memory? I hear it again, far 
off, but oh, how sweet ! Now it dies away, and anon swells 
up full and clear upon the balmy air. It is the music of 
those incomparable bells to which 1 listened so often in my 
happy childhood. There is not a finer set in Somersetshire, 
perhaps not in England. My father assisted in hanging 
them, and my cousins and I made playhouses of them as 
they lay upon the ground. There must have been a wedding 
to-day at Burn ham. What a wave of joyous melody comes 
with every rising breath of the evening breeze ! Ah, what 
voices and visions of the past do those magical tones bring 
with them ! Excuse me, unpoetic reader, if I turn my 
feelings into verse. \ 



HEART-RECORDS. 41 7 

The Burnliam bells ! The Burnhani bells ! 

I heard them when a boy ; 
And churchward, o'er the yellow moor, 

I ran with childish joy : 
My Sabbath had no sorrow then, 

My worship no alloy. 

And when o'er Berrow's shining strand 

We trod so blithe and gay, 
Or climbed Brent Knoll's embattled crest 

To breathe the balm of May, 
How often paused our sportive train 

To list that pleasing lay ! 

And when the bridal-gem bedecked 

Our fair young cousin's brow, 
And in the holy place she knelt 

To seal her maiden vow, 
How pealed the merry Burnhani bells, 

As they are pealing now ! 

And when the Christmas eve came round, 

And joy was everywhere, 
And youthful glee made sober age 

Forget its heavy care, 
What wreaths of melody they wove 

Upon the wintry air ! 

And when the annual feast was spread, 

And, as the season true, 
Together to our childhood's home 

The dear ones fondly drew, 
How rang they out the good old year, 

And welcomed in the new ! 

'Tis more than thirty Christmas eves, 

And New-Years' festivals — 
And I have pressed such loving hearts, 

And breathed such sad farewells — 
Since last I listened to your song, 

Ye mellow Burnham bells ! 

For I have strayed in foreign lands, 

And found a foreign home ; 
And love has withered at my side, 

And beauty ceased to bloom ; 
And what I valued more than life 

Has vanished in the tomb. 

2 E 



418 THE AMERICAN PASTOR IN EUROPE. 

I've lost the light elastic tread, 

My hair is whitening now, 
And Care his cruel lines has left 

Engraven on my brow ; 
And where is youthful Innocence ? 

And where, sweet Hope, art thou ? 

The house where first I hailed the day 

I now through tears behold, 
The grove beside the pleasant hill 

Of emerald and gold ; 
For there the stream of my young life 

'Mid scenes of beauty rolled. 

How oft along this fragrant bank 

I wandered wild and free ! 
How oft in boyish games engaged 

Around that old elm tree ! 
But where are all the little feet 

That ranged the fields with me ? 

The primrose and the violet, 

Which then the hedge perfumed, 
The daisy and the buttercup, 

Still bloom as erst they bloomed ; 
But she for whom I gathered them 

Was long ago entombed. 

The mound that marked the grave is gone, 

The place is seldom shown, 
And age has quite obscured the name 

Recorded on the stone ; 
But that sweet face, ye Burnham bells, 

Returns with your sweet tone ! 

King on — your blessed minstrelsy 

Rolls back the wheel of time ! 
Ring on — my Eden blooms anew 

Beneath your holy chime ! 
Ring on — I never more may list 

Your melody sublime ! 

' And here will I make an end.' Why should I tell of 
tearful partings ? On the fourteeenth of November we 
embarked in the steam-ship Vanderbilt for New York. 
Two days, and Boreas comes waltzing over the waters, 
and Neptune rises to resent the intrusion. The Vanderbilt 
takes a hand in the affray — tries to knock the stars out of 



HEART-RECORDS* 419 

the sky with her stern or poke a hole in the bottom of 
the ocean with her bowsprit. Six days the elemental 
war continues ; the passengers retire to their berths in 
sublime disgust, and the scribe very rationally suspects 
himself of insanity. The French cook jumps overboard 
and is lost. A passenger fractures his skull by a fall 
against the sharp corner of the wheel-house, and the 
next day we commit him to the deep. The second Sab- 
bath brings calmer weather, and the scribe is preaching 
to the passengers. Another storm, fiercer and fouler 
than the former. Alas, for c those that go down to the 
sea in ships !' Thursday morning, the twenty-sixth of 
November, 1857, I stand upon the deck of a steamer all 
shrouded with ice, and sing more joyously than ever I sang 
before — 

' Hail, Columbia, happy land !'* 

* What would the good and talented doctor do or say, were 
6 Hail, Columbia ' to pass from his recollection? But there are 
so many pleasant pages, from which so many bright lights shine, 
and it is so refreshing to read the account of familiar places as 
seen by foreign eyes, that we can forgive the little American 
complacency which breaks out so often. America is worth being- 
proud of, and we are not unwilling to remember she is the daughter 
of Old England.— Ed. 



LONDON: PRINTED BT WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET.* 



y 



V 



